


Beast with Two Backs

by Manuscriptor



Series: Cake Times Ten [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blindfolds, Choking, Collars, Consensual Sex, Inverted Trope, Leashes, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Bondage, Physical Abuse, Recreational Weed, Successful Job Hunting, this is me self projecting into my story lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 83,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: This is a continuation of Cake Times Ten, starting exactly where it left off. Nothing has happened since then and things will probably only be worse.In the aftermath of the Lucifer's arrival and Gabe's bad decisions, Cas must jump to action in order to pull things together and even then he's scrambling for a solution.Dean and Sam struggle with the new roles they each have and attempt to make the best of what's happened to them.





	1. Rules and Regulations

**Author's Note:**

> No time has passed since the ending of the last chapter, I just want to make that clear. 
> 
> Also, check the tags, this starts off fast, heavy, and dark, I didn't realize that such a harsh chapter would be the first one when I split it. Graphic depictions of violence/abuse so please be careful!

Cas felt like his chest was on fire. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, making him giddy and restless at the same time. He was doing something. He was _doing something_. He didn’t go against Gabe and he had _never_ gone against Lucifer. That just wasn’t something he did. He never said no and he always said yes.

But now. This rush of freedom that came with defiance was better than any sort of alcohol or drugs or food he could ever have. Cas felt like he was floating on cloud nine.

Until he actually walked into the room with Lucifer.

Sam was curled up in the corner of the room, arms already strapped behind his back, stripped naked. The scratches and bite on his shoulder were torn open, bleeding down his arm and back. He was sobbing, cowering before Lucifer, who had a whip already raised above his head.

Lucifer’s face was twisted in a horrific snarl, the gleam of sweat already shining on his face. “What the fuck?!” he was yelling, bring the whip down again and again and again. “What the fuck was that?! Are you fucking retarded?! You are _never_ to lay a hand on _anyone_ in this house! You fucking understand me?!”

Sam was trying to curl himself against the blows, trying to protect himself the best he could. Already, he had welts forming across his face and neck, his chest and stomach bright red from the beating. And Lucifer didn’t seem too intent on stopping anytime soon.

“You fucking listen to me,” Lucifer hissed between clenched teeth, his voice dropping down. Somehow, that was worse than the yelling. “You are an alpha. You’re only supposed to obey. You aren’t supposed to _think_.” Lucifer punctuated each word with a strike of the whip, ignoring Sam’s whimpers and tears. “And you dare try to touch _my family_?!”

Lucifer tossed the whip aside and sunk to a crouch, grabbing a fistful of Sam’s hair and yanking his head up. Sam gasped, eyes going wide as he struggled to get his knees underneath him. Lucifer didn’t give him time to get his balance before standing and dragging Sam across the floor. Well, half dragging. Sam yelped and managed to crawl the best he could so that Lucifer didn’t rip his hair out. Lucifer deposited him in the middle of the room, where he had nowhere to hide.

And then Lucifer spotted Cas standing in the doorway. And he smiled.

“Oh, Cas, I was hoping you’d come here,” he said. “Gabe mentioned that you’ve been having a hard time with how to treat the alphas beneath you. This is the perfect time for a lesson.”

Cas balled his hands into fists, hating that his brothers had been talking about him behind his back. There wasn’t much he could do about it, but it still made him angry.

“You’re hurting him,” he said, keeping his voice firm and unshaking.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I’m teaching him a lesson,” he said. “No alpha is allowed to touch my family. Especially if that family is omegian.”

Sam wasn’t even making noise anymore, just lying on his side, face turned into the mat, tears slowly trickling down his face. And Cas wrinkled his nose at the pool of urine growing under his hips. Sam didn’t react.

“You’re going too far,” Cas said.

Lucifer shrugged, walking to the side of the room that held a rack of whips. Instead of a triangle of leather, though, gleaming metal hoops were soldered onto the ends. He selected one, a bright silver, and swung it experimentally through the air. It _sung_. Lucifer did it again, the same flat note of music ringing out from the toy.

“Or maybe I’m not going far enough,” he said, prowling his way back towards Sam.

Cas was actually scared. That didn’t look like it was made for pleasure. Even the paddles were printed with hearts or kisses but _this_. This looked like something made for medieval torture.

Sam wasn’t looking, only taking shuddering breaths as he sobbed into the mat. He didn’t even know what was coming, didn’t see the gleam of sadistic delight shining in Lucifer’s eyes.

“Stop!” Cas shouted, hating the way that Sam still flinched at the noise.

Lucifer ignored him, stopping in front of Sam. He raised the circlet over his head, eyes staring at the pale expanse of Sam’s back, down the curl of his spine, and over the curve of his ass. Only Sam’s shoulders were marked up at the moment. Well, there were scars and faded marks from his past, but Lucifer clearly intended on changing that.

Cas felt his stomach twist into knots at that thought.

 He stepped forward between Sam and Lucifer, intending on stopping him just by putting himself in the way. Lucifer was already swinging though, and Cas gasped as the whip struck him across the face, leaving a burning circlet of agony on his cheek.

He collapsed, vision going white for a moment. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, like fire across his face. Tears were spilling down his face before he could pull them back, and the salt and pain mixed like some sort of flaming cocktail.

He was stunned. Silent. Until he realized that Lucifer was staring down at him, a sneer curling his lips. The whip hung limply at his side, but his grip on the handle was still strong.

“I see,” he said. “That Gabe has neglected to teach you that an omega is never to take a hit for an alpha. No matter what.” He looked passed Cas to Sam, who still hadn’t looked up. Lucifer scoffed. “That an alpha’s place is at an omega’s feet.”

Cas raised a hand to his cheek, hissing at the pain when his fingers ghosted over his skin. How did this happen? He couldn’t organize any of his thoughts. For a moment, he couldn’t even remember how he had ended up on the floor. Sam’s whimpering was what brought him back. That, and as Lucifer continued talking.

“I see I will have to pick up where he has left off,” he was saying. “I guess, we’ll have to start at the beginning.”

The edge of the whip came down hard on Cas’s hand, leaving a welt and a stinging point of pain. Cas gasped and snatched his hand close to his chest. It _hurt_. Already he was losing feeling in his fingers on that hand, and his heartbeat had somehow moved to his face, throbbing in his cheek.

“Get. Up.” Lucifer said. “An omega is never on their knees. That is the alpha’s position. So get up.”

Cas pushed himself to his knees. And then to his feet. He stood between Lucifer and Sam, his entire face alight with pain. His hand was shivering too. He couldn’t hold it steady.

“Good,” Lucifer said. “Now, step aside.” He took a practice swing with the whip, that same flat note making Cas want to crawl inside himself.

“Please stop it,” Cas said, his voice just as shaky as the rest of him. “Sam is already hurting enough.”

“Wrong again,” Lucifer said. “An alpha can _never_ hurt enough. Now, I will not say it again, Cas. Step aside and let me do this.”

“I can't,” Cas said, balling his one good hand into a fist and holding the other stiffly at his waist. “I won't.”

“Then I guess I can teach you another lesson,” Lucifer said. “That sometimes, an omega needs the same punishment as an alpha.”

The whip connected with Cas's side before he could react, cutting through his clothes and leaving and burning ringlet of pain across his ribs. He gasped and immediately doubled over, clutching the area gently, not wanting to rub it and inflame it but the instinct to cover and protect being too strong. Before he could react, the whip was laying itself across his shoulders, driving him to the ground, curled next to Sam as Lucifer refused to pull his punches. Two more strikes dug into his shoulders, then two more lower down on his back. Cas screamed as the metal connected with the backs of his thighs, twice on each side, leaving his legs shaky and unstable.

“And that's ten,” Lucifer said. “What an alpha should receive for every minor infraction.”

Cas couldn't see. The pain and tears blurred his vision and had white splotches blocking out most of the room. He focused on Lucifer's shoes, rich brown cap toes, not a speck of dust in sight, as if he floated everywhere instead of walking. Why did he seem so unreal? So untouchable? Cas wanted to curl up and go to sleep and forget about everything. Maybe then everything would go away or disappear.

“Now, move aside,” Lucifer said again. “And I can give Sam his own punishment now.”

Cas couldn't take another hit. He could barely even tell he was crying at this point. How did Sam do it? How did _Dean_ do it? It felt like Cas's skin was going to fall off.  He managed to pull himself to his knees and then crawled a foot to the left, out of the way of Lucifer.

“Good boy,” Lucifer said. “I guess omegas can be taught just as easily as alphas. Maybe if I have enough time, I can teach you to roll over like Sam too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cas watched Sam slowly tip himself, easing carefully onto his back to present his stomach to Lucifer. Like a good, obedient alpha. And it struck Cas that this was _not_ how he expected the confrontation to go. Somehow, for some reason, he had expected . . . . what? For Lucifer to give up his prey so easily? Bullshit.

For some reason, a memory from high school popped into Cas’s mind. He had just presented, Lucifer had been an omega for years. The family had three house alphas, all service-trained not that Cas understood that at the time. And he had only barely understood the alphic screams, smells of panic, the bloody bathroom afterwards, and the next day, the household mysteriously being one alpha short.

In fact, now that Cas was thinking about it for some reason, things were flooding back to him. The house alphas slinking off whenever Lucifer entered the room. The house alphas having odd cuts and scrapes, it all being chalked up to their being clumsy. The house alphas would hoard candy wrappers, dust bunnies, it didn’t even have to be useful, they would collect it under couch cushions. They started sucking on pillows. Lucifer was their living nightmare. It was so odd that Cas was realizing that now. Like his mind wanted to think of anything but what was going on in the moment.

He was dragged back to the present by a scream, turning just enough to see Lucifer turning Sam's stomach brilliantly red. Sam rolled over instinctively to protect his stomach only to receive the same beating on his back, the knobs of his spine being the first to crack open and bleed. The rivulets traced the lines of his ribs which flared with each heaving breath. He was sobbing and whimpering when Lucifer finally pulled back.

“See, Cas,” Lucifer said, pausing to push his hair away from his eyes. “Nothing like a good session of discipline to put a wayward alpha in its place.” Cas could hear the smile in his voice. “And wayward omegas too, I guess.”

Cas couldn’t stand up. He didn’t want to move.

“Stand up, Cas,” Lucifer said. “You are going to walk out that door and go to bed. The alpha will sleep here for the night. Tomorrow, I think you’ll see the reason behind why I’m doing what I’m doing.”

Cas obeyed. He pushed himself onto his knees, ignoring the way his legs shook and his arms trembled. Still, he managed to climb completely up, groping the air around him for some support. He found nothing.

“Walk,” Lucifer said, pointing towards the door.

Cas walked. There wasn’t really anything else he could do. And as soon as he was outside the room, he collapsed again. And he was crying all over again, the welts throbbing in time with his heart beat. It took him forever to pull himself together. After the first couple minutes of listening to Sam yelp and whimper and whine until the door to the room swung open and Lucifer walked out, whistling to himself as he tucked himself back into his pants without a hint of shame.

“Get to bed, Cas,” he said idly. “The alpha will be there in the morning.”

Like Sam was a toy to wind up, play with, and then put back in the box. Like if Sam broke, he could be fixed by being turned off and then on again, or by hitting him enough times. Like Sam was something to be set up only to be knocked back down.

Under Lucifer’s watchful eye, Cas pushed himself once again to his feet, wincing at the flashes of pain in his legs, and walked down the hallway. Lucifer followed him all the way back to his room. Cas didn’t even bother changing out of his clothes. He just collapsed on the bed, face down, gasping at the throb in his ribs, and let Lucifer pull the blankets up over his shoulders.

 


	2. A Place of Their Own

The store manager let Dean sleep on the floor of the kids’ playroom. There were a couple half-sized blankets that he bunched together to cover himself the best he could. The manager had a leash in the store’s office, and he tethered Dean to the radiator pipe. The lock clicked when the door closed, and Dean was left alone.

He cried for a while after, just sobbing into his arms until he ran out of tears and then he just panted until he was exhausted enough to pass out.

He dreamed about Cas leaving him. They had a horrible fight. Or something. It was a dream so nothing made sense. There was yelling and screaming, for some reason there was blood but then there wasn’t, honestly Dean had no idea. He knew he was crying in his dream, he just couldn’t really figure out why.

Anyway, he fought with Cas, throwing his fists and snapping his teeth. There was pain on his face and ribs too, as if Cas was fighting back. And then they dissolved into water and they were swimming in the middle of a lake and the water was rushing into Dean’s mouth and lungs and he couldn’t breathe.

Dean was struggling, thrashing, clawing to get to the surface of the lake, wanting to breathe, desperate to breathe, _longing to breathe_.

And then they were at an execution, something old fashioned, and it was Sam’s neck beneath the guillotine. The blade dropped before Dean could even do anything and then the blood was everywhere and gushing into Dean’s mouth, salty and hot and making him gag and vomit within his dream. He thrashed, suddenly finding himself drowning again. And he couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, hey!”

A hand was jostling him awake, ripping him away from the horror. He gasped awake, startled to find himself staring up at the concerned face of an omega he didn’t recognize.

“You’re bleeding,” the omega said, immediately standing and moving to a wall-mounted cupboard to pull out several tissues. She returned to his side, bunching the tissues together and then unceremoniously shoving them inside his lip.

Dean immediately brought his hand up to feel for himself, surprised to find blood on his chin. He must’ve bitten his lip while sleeping.

“You were thrashing,” the omega said. “In your sleep. You were dreaming.”

“I’m sowy,” Dean said, struggling to speak around the tissues.

The omega sighed, setting her mouth in a thin line. “Your owner didn’t come last night,” she said. “Do you think they’ll be coming this morning?”

“I’m sowy,” Dean repeated. “I—I don’t know. He said to stay here until he came and got me and I—I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” the omega said. “Shh, shh, no point in sobbing over it.”

Dean’s stomach growled just then, and the omega chuckled, pulling off his blankets and starting to fold them to put them away. Dean felt his cheeks go hot but dutifully kept the tissues in his mouth to stop the blood from leaking onto his tongue. The coppery taste set him on edge and he didn’t like it.

“How about breakfast?” the omega said with a smile. “I’m sure the bakers have something extra made during the night.”

Dean nodded, waiting for the omega to unclip his leash before pushing himself up. He felt stiff from sleeping in his working vest but didn’t want to take it off. It was his only comfort from home.

The omega led him out of the room he slept in, through the empty store, and to a room in the back. It was like a break room, several chairs and tables spread throughout the length of it. Off to one side of the room was a soda machine, refrigerator, and a vending machine next to a stretch of counter. A microwave, coffee maker, and rack of mugs sat on the counter, ready for the employees’ use.

“You ever had coffee before?” the omega asked, moving straight to the coffee maker and starting to set it up. She pulled a tin of grounds out from a cupboard and starting to scoop some into the reservoir.

“No,” Dean said. He remembered his parents drinking coffee. He remembered Gabe drinking coffee. Cas must’ve had a cup at some point. It smelled good, albeit a little bitter.

“Well, take a seat,” the omega said. “In my experience, coffee makes things better no matter what the situation.”

Dean sat, not sure which table he was supposed to be at or if he was even supposed to be on the floor. The omega didn’t start immediately yelling at him so the choice of a chair seemed fine. She just continued to bustle around the counter, pulling down two mugs, and grabbing a jug of creamer. The coffee machine buzzed to life and soon the room was filled with the smell of coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” the omega asked.

Dean didn’t know what he was supposed to say so he just nodded. The omega walked to the table to two steaming cups in hand. She sat down across from Dean, pushing one mug over to Dean. Making sure to keep the tissues in his mouth, Dean grabbed the mug with his free hand, blowing on it and taking a careful sip.

It was bitter. And hot. A little sweet but not much. Dean didn’t understand what all the hype was about. He took another sip anyway.

“So do you have a name?” the omega asked, wrapping her hands around her own mug.

“Dean,” Dean said.

“I’m Casey,” the omega said. “The morning manager. I think you talked with Lola last night. She’s the night manager most days.”

Dean shrugged, not really knowing who had helped him last night.

“Well, this is a first for the store,” Casey said. “We’ve never . . . . had an alpha show up at our front steps, in a panic.” She was smiling nervously, smelling nervous. “So, Dean, you’ll have to excuse me when I admit that I’m not quite sure how to react.”

Dean winced. So what _were_ they going to do?

“The correct response,” Casey said. “I think, would be to call the police.”

Dean stiffened, whipping his gaze up. Cas never told him what to do if he didn’t show up. Police seemed like a _horrible_ idea. Did the police even care about alphas?! What would they do in the case of Dean and Sam? Dean wanted to say no to the police, but he couldn’t tell an omega no.

“I’m not going to call the police,” Casey said, as if reassuring him. “Because I don’t think the situation needs to be brought to their attention.”

“Tank you,” Dean said, moving the tissues slightly to the side so that he could take another sip of coffee. “Really.”

“Still,” Casey said, folding her hands in front of her and leaning forward on the table. “I can’t just do nothing.”

Dean swallowed.

“So,” Casey said. “I’ll give you today. You can stay here, in the break room, as long as you don’t mess with anything or anyone, alright? But at the end of today, if your owner hasn’t showed up yet, I will have to call the pound and they will come and take you.” She held up a hand. “Before you pitch a fit, the pound will have a much better place to sleep and actual food for you to eat.”

Dean didn’t want to go to the pound. The pound sounded like a bad thing. And how would Cas find him then? Dean was supposed to wait at the grocery store not at the pound. Cas would be looking for him at the grocery store and not the pound. But Dean didn’t argue.

“You stay here,” Casey said, pushing herself up from the table. “I’ll go get a leash and the keys to the vending machine.”

Dean nodded, huddling down around his mug and focusing on taking careful sips. The taste was starting to grow on him and he wondered if he could get another cup.

It only took a couple minutes for Casey to return, her arms full with a couple blankets Dean recognized as ones he had used last night along with a leash, a bundle of keys, and a small remote control. She set them down on the table farthest from the door, back into one corner. She looked up at Dean and motioned with her hand.

“Here,” she said, and Dean jumped to obey.

She clipped the leash onto his collar and then tied the leash to the leg of the table, effectively keeping him in place. She set the blankets next to him and then walked to the vending machine, shuffling through the keys before selecting one and unlocking the door. She pulled it open and grabbed a couple different packages, stuffing them under her arm before closing and re-locking the machine.

She set a bottle of water, a package of sandwich crackers, a chocolate peanut butter candy bar, and bag of regular potato chips.

“Breakfast,” she said. She set the remote down and pointed to a yellow button with the black symbol of a phone on it. “This,” she said. “Will buzz to my work radio. It’ll let me know if you need anything, like the bathroom or something else to drink.”

Dean reached for it, but she pulled it back with a stern look.

“If you abuse this privilege,” she said. “Or annoy me too much, I will take it away. And if you pee or poo in your pants it will be your fault and I certainly don’t want to clean that up.”

Dean nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he said.

Casey reached up and took the tissues out of his mouth, stuffing them into her pocket. “Blankets,” she said, gesturing to the pile sitting on the bench next to Dean. “Don’t bother any of the workers. If I get any complaints, I will make you sit in the utility closet.”

“I understand,” Dean said.

“Very well,” Casey said and finally pushed the remote control over to Dean’s side of the table. “Keep yourself occupied. I have to get to work.” And then she turned and walked out of the room, tossing the slightly bloody tissues into a trash can on her way out.

Dean immediately set about opening food. He had half a mug of coffee and a full water bottle. He wasn’t sure if coffee tasted good cold but he really wanted to save it. So, he ripped open the sandwich crackers, ate two, making sure to eat them a fourth at a time. He set the candy bar and chips aside, knowing they would taste much, much better.

He took small sips of water, not wanting to waste that either. His stomach grumbled though, and he couldn’t stop himself from eating two more sandwich crackers, just as slow as the first ones. Now he had two sandwich crackers left, a whole bag of chips, and a whole candy bar left to eat. He unfolded the top blanket and pulled it over his lap, tucking it under his legs. He stared down at his meager rations and then around the room, wondering how he was supposed to occupy himself.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to Cas and Sam, scared about what was happening at the house. The memory of their scents was quickly fading. That scared Dean. He didn’t want to forget Cas and he definitely didn’t want to forget Sam. Dean took a daring suck of water, a full mouthful, wasteful. He just needed something.

He considered hitting the button to call Casey then figured that would just annoy her, so he left it. He sat for a couple more minutes, chewing his lip, regretting that he took such a huge drink of water.

The sound of laughter and conversation made him look up, and two guys—a beta and an omega—walked into the breakroom, already wearing their green work aprons. They stopped short when they saw Dean.

“Um,” the beta said, looking back over his shoulder and then back at Dean. “Hey.”

Dean swallowed, feeling smaller than he had ever felt in his entire life. “Hey,” he said, his voice squeaking up pathetically.

“Casey said he’d be there,” the omega said, jabbing his elbow into the beta’s ribs. “Come on, I want coffee before first shift.”

They walked across the room, the omega not giving Dean a second glance. The beta kept looking over at him, thinking he was being sneaky but Dean noticed him every time. Dean stared down at his food, wanting to stuff it down his shirt just so that no one would have a chance to take it away from him, but he also didn’t dare move.

“Hey,” the beta said.

Dean looked up.

The beta twirled a stirring stick between his fingers before tucking it into his mouth to chew on. “Did your omega, like, hit you?” he said.

Dean shook his head quickly, not trusting himself to talk.

“You run away then?” the beta said.

“No,” Dean said, this time determined to deny the accusations.

The beta shrugged, going back to stirring his coffee. “No need to snap,” he said. “Was just asking.” He added more creamer to his cup, stirred it one last time, and the walked away, tossing the wooden stick in the trash before disappearing. And Dean was left alone with the omega.

“Are you going to be here all day?” the omega asked. He smelled annoyed, frustrated, angry at Dean as if he had ruined the schedule.

Dean shrugged.

“Fine,” the omega said stiffly. He crouched, rummaging around the bottom cabinets for a moment before grabbing a metal can and straightening. He shook that can, rattling it, and then pointed it in Dean’s direction.

The air freshener hissed into the air, and Dean wrinkled his nose at the sharp citrus smell. He coughed and covered his nose as the omega sprayed the air and then waved that around before setting the can down on the counter with a sharp clack.

He finished stirring his own coffee and then turned on his heel, quickly hurrying out of the breakroom. His stirring stick was left dripping on the counter, and the air was a stifling mix of orange and coffee. Dean wanted to crawl inside of himself. He sighed and pulled the second blanket up onto his shoulders. He hunkered down, hoping that the day would pass quickly.

More betas and omegas filed into the room. Some would ask him questions, most of them just ignored him. They would get coffee or soda or snacks from the machine. They sometimes sat on the table farthest away from Dean and talked in quiet, hushed tones. After the third or fourth omega to give him a dirty look, Dean gave up sitting at the table and slid off his seat, onto the floor. He pulled his second blanket off his shoulders and onto his head so he could at least kind of hide from view.

He ate the last of the sandwich crackers and drank more water. He buzzed Casey, wanting to go to the bathroom. It took her a couple minutes but she finally arrived.

“What are you doing under the table?” she asked.

Embarrassed, Dean crawled out, leaving his blankets and remaining food in the pile. He hoped no one would mess with it. “I needed to go to the bathroom,” he said.

“Well, hurry up,” Casey said, unclipping his leash. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Thankfully, Dean was able to go into the stall by himself while Casey waited outside. He finished as quickly as he could, washing his hands and then walking out the door. Casey didn’t say another word as she led him back to the breakroom. She re-clipped the leash to his collar and didn’t say anything as he crawled back under the table and back under the blankets. And then she left him alone.

Dean took another drink of water. It was about half gone at this point. He took a sip of his coffee as well, finding that it tasted just as good cold as it did hot. He then caved, and opened the bag of chips, eating half of them as well. He eyes the chocolate bar hungrily but then shoved it out of sight, under his blankets.

He picked and chewed at his nails until they hurt to pick things up. And then he hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach.

“Dean?”

Dean sat up so fast he hit his head on the bottom of the table, and he yelped in pain. And then he scrambled out from under the table.

Cas was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, wearing a heavy sweater and dark sunglasses. Immediately, Dean spotted the welt on his cheek, and the sharp spike of hurt-pain-omega made his hair stand on end.

Dean jumped to his feet, lunging forward, choking himself on the leash when it yanked him back. He tried again, wanting to get to Cas, to scent him, to make sure he was okay because Dean knew he wasn’t.

Cas rushed to him instead, fumbling with the clasp and managing to undo it.

Dean scooped him up, scenting him over and then wincing as Cas yelped in pain, pushing against his hold. Dean set him down, scared he had hurt him. Cas was holding his ribs and was shaky on his feet. Dean felt a hot rush of protectiveness flow through him.

What had happened?! Who had hurt Cas?! Who did Dean need to tear apart?! And where was Sam?!

“What took you so long?” he asked instead, unable to keep the hurt from his voice.

“Things,” Cas said, looking down at his feet. “Things at home. They aren’t good. I’m so sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t come right away.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean blurted, lunging forward and gathering Cas in his arms again. He scented Cas, pulling down the collar of Cas’s sweater so that he could gently groom his scent glands. And that’s when he saw the marks.

Welts. Hot to the touch now that Dean knew they were there. Bright red and agitated, making Cas winced and clench his teeth.

“How?” Dean said, handling him much more gently. “Where else?”

“Stop it,” Cas said but didn’t push him away.

“ _Who_?” Dean said, struggling to keep the growl out of his voice.

“Nobody,” Cas said, still staring at the ground. He shrugged. “My brother. It’s no big deal. Look, there are more important things to deal with. We have to act fast.”

“We have to make sure you’re okay,” Dean said. “You’re hurt. I won’t let you hurt yourself more. Cas, he _hurt_ you. You need to rest.”

“I don’t need to rest!” Cas said and this time he really did shove Dean away. “I need to help you! I need to help Sam! He’s still back at the house, with my brother! And if I don’t do something soon, then he’s going to be hurt more than he already is!”

Dean felt a ball of ice settle in his stomach, heavy and cold. He couldn’t swallow around the lump in his throat.

Oh fuck, Sam. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Dean needed to get to Sam. He needed to make sure Sam was okay. He would rip Luci limb from limb if he hurt Sam. Dean would rip the entire house apart.

“I got an apartment,” Cas said. “Paid the rent for three months so we’re good.” He sighed. “For now.”

“We’re leaving?” Dean said.

“After we get Sam,” Cas said. “Alright? We’re not leaving him. I’m not sure how we’ll explain to Gabe but—but—” He looked up at Dean, the dark sunglasses hiding the usual blue of his eyes. “But we sure as _fuck_ aren’t leaving him with Lucifer.”

The words sent a chill down Dean’s spine.

He wanted to kiss Cas, the feeling taking over him so suddenly that he had to actually pause and pull himself back. Cas didn’t even smell appealing, more like panic and pain, but for some reason Dean felt the urge to cover his mouth with his own and try to kiss the pain away.

Cas didn’t even seem to notice the way Dean pulled back. Instead, he turned to the small nest the Dean had made under the table.

“We can clean that up,” he said. “The manager said she’ll deal with the blankets so pick up your wrappers and food and stuff and we can leave.”

Dean eagerly jumped to obey, gathering the empty wrappers and finishing the water bottle and coffee in two gulps. He put the mug in the sink and the empty bottle in the trash. He then looked down at the candy bar in his hands.

He hadn’t gotten the chance to eat it and scarfing it down now seemed pointless. He wanted to enjoy it. He tucked it into one of his vest’s pockets, looking to see if Cas would protest.

Cas was too busy looking at his phone.

“Ready,” Dean said.

“Good,” Cas said. “Come on, we should hurry.”

Together they rushed out of the store. Casey gave Dean a wave and a smile before going back to scanning the groceries of a customer.

A taxi was already waiting outside, presumably how Cas had gotten to the store in the first place. They climbed into the back seat, and Cas knocked on the glass between them and the driver.

“I’m going to drop you off at the apartment,” he explained, finally reaching up and pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes were shot red, irritated looking, like he hadn’t slept well and also had been crying for hours. “You can stay there. I don’t want you back at the house.”

Dean _wanted_ to go back to the house. He wanted to rescue Sam himself. The longer he was away from his brother, the more his gut twisted in anger and fierce protectiveness.

But he slumped against his seat, willing to obey Cas. He had to trust that the omega knew what he was doing, and that meant not putting up a fight at the moment. The rest of the car ride was silent.

The apartment building was run down and shady looking. A group of betas and alphas sat out in the lawn outside the building, lounging around a burning barrel. They watched the taxi with squinted eyes, nudging each other as it pulled to a stop. Dean felt his hackles rise at the unspoken threat, wondering just how far this would go.

“Come on,” Cas said, not seeming to notice the hostility, cracking open his door and sliding out. He slipped his sunglasses on as he pulled himself to his feet.

He looked pretty damn intimidating. At least, to Dean he did. Standing at his full height, sweeping his gaze across the lawn and building, not even giving the betas and alphas a second glance. He acted aloof and prestigious, as if he wasn’t walking into a cockroach infested apartment building.

“Room 2874,” he said, dipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a key with a ratty keychain for some gas station. “Let’s go.”

Dean followed him up a flight of rickety stairs to the second floor, stopping in front of a door with peeling paint, scenting the air anxiously. He really didn’t like this place. It seemed much too dangerous. But Cas’s key fit into the lock and he turned it, jiggling the door open and having to knock it with his hip when it got stuck.

“Fully furnished,” Cas said, flicking on the lights and walking into the apartment. He pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the kitchen counter. “Utilities and electricity included. We have to do our own laundry but the lady said there was a spot down the street.” He turned back to Dean, smiling proudly. “And the best part is that they have no rules against alphas. They won’t look twice at you and Sam.”

Dean looked the place over, feeling his stomach flip.

‘Fully furnished’ was a ratty couch and recliner in the living room section, a table and three chairs in the eating area, and a mattress on the ground in the single bedroom which was through one door off the kitchen area. At least the lights worked. The entire place smelled musty, not entirely clean.

“Home,” Cas said. It was obvious he was forcing himself to smile about the circumstances. That was brave, Dean would give him that.

“Home,” Dean repeated just to make Cas feel better.

Cas’s scent shifted to be a little more relieved. “You’ll stay here,” he said. “I’m going to go get Sam. Hopefully.”

“Food?” Dean asked, hating that he was thinking with his stomach and not his head. He couldn’t help it. His stomach was starting to feel hollow again.

“Oh!” Cas said. “Um, yeah, groceries. We’re going to need that.” He riffled through his pockets and finally pulled out a couple loose bills.

Dean quickly picked through his vest pockets, pulling out the change from the bus and grocery store. He offered it to Cas who looked and smelled relieved at that.

“I’ll bring something back,” he said. “Even if I can’t get Sam. I’ll make sure I’ll bring something back.” He craned his neck, looking back into the bedroom at the mattress.

“Alright,” Dean said.

“Oh, wait,” Cas said.

Dean flinched when Cas reached for his face, but it was nothing bad. Dean had to hold his mouth open while Cas worked the coverings off his teeth. It took several long moments of awkward contact before Cas was finally able to peel the coverings off. Dean licked his teeth gratefully, his mouth feeling weird after having the covering in it for so long.

“Better?” Cas asked, leaving the spit-covered caps on the counter.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said.

Cas nodded. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Don’t leave the room though. I don’t know just how safe this place is.”  

Dean nodded and stepped toward the bedroom. He paused, looking back to Cas, who was gathering up his stuff again, about the head out the door.

Dean didn’t want him to leave, not after so soon. He opened his mouth to object but then quickly closed it. No, he couldn’t be selfish. He had to think of Sam. Cas was going to try to get him back. Dean could be alone for a little while longer if it meant getting Sam back.

“I’ll be back soon,” Cas said, his scent at least smelling confident.  

“Thank you,” Dean said.

Cas nodded and then he was out the door, pulling it firmly shut behind him and locking it.

Dean really wasn’t tired so he explored the apartment instead. The recliner and couch were even worse up close, threadbare and uncomfortable to sit down on. The table and two of the chairs wobbled. The cupboards held a package of paper plates and several plastic cups. Dean took one down and filled it with water from the tap. It didn’t smell bad so he gulped it down.

The bedroom held the mattress laying on the ground, no sheets or blankets though, and a chest of drawers that couldn’t be seen from the kitchen because it was shoved into the corner. All the drawers were empty. The bedroom also had a closet with three empty hangers and a handful of dust bunnies. The bedroom also didn’t have a door.

A small bathroom was across from the bedroom. A tiny shower was installed in the wall, the bathtub not even looking big enough to sit down in. The toilet had a ring of yellow slime, but when Dean flushed it the water went down and refilled just fine. The countertop with dirty but that was expected. The space underneath the sink held a half empty bottle of bleach and that was it.

All in all, Dean was unsatisfied with the place. Of course, he was used to the luxury of Cas’s house with the soft pillows and blankets and the cupboards stocked with food. Even the expensive marble floors were better than the scratchy shag carpet of the apartment.

Forlornly, he sat down on the mattress, wincing when a stray spring poked him in the ass. He shifted down a bit, finding a spot that was better, and sighed, dropping his head to his hands.

What the fuck was happening to him?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finals tomorrow and I'm writing to cope with the stress, hoh boy!


	3. Selfish Again

Cas felt like he was being pulled in a million directions at once and the stretch was making his welts hurt. He was aware that his eyes were red and bloodshot and had worn sunglasses. He thought his heavy sweater would hide his wounds but Dean had seen then in no time, and Cas hated that he worried.

When Dean fretted and scented him over, Cas felt all hot and blush-y, more sick and unstable. He should probably pick up bandages and some sort of antiseptic at a store before going back to the apartment.  

Right now, he was headed back home. He felt his stomach twist at that thought.

Was it even “home” at this point? Was he even welcome there anymore? He had kicked himself out more than Lucifer had, but Cas couldn’t even think of staying under the same room as Lucifer another night if it meant treating Sam and Dean like that. He shuddered and distracted himself by thumbing through the bills left in his wallet.

He had never had to be frugal before.

Of course, he still had a credit card, though he wasn’t sure how long that would last before it was cancelled. It was better to use it while he could. So when the taxi man asked for payment, Cas let him swipe it before climbing out.

He stared up at his house, never realizing how tall and foreboding it looked until he knew he wouldn't be welcomed inside. He took a deep breath which did nothing to calm his nerves, pulled his sunglasses off his face, and marched up to the front doors with his shoulders back, feigning the confidence he didn't actually have.

The house was quiet, which made everything seem even worse. Cas had been expecting screaming and wailing and yelling. But there was nothing. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Gabe.

“Cas! I've been looking for you everywhere!”

Cas spun around, seeing Gabe paused in the hallway, carrying a plate of toast and eggs. He was wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, looking. . . . homely. Cas realized he hadn't seen Gabe dressed down in a while. He had always been either ready for work or just something casual, like jeans. Cas had to do a double take. Gabe was wearing fuzzy socks.

“Where have you been?!” Gabe said, his cheeks quickly going bright red. “I swear I’ve had to entertain Luci for _hours_ by myself. You know how stressful that is?!” He looked left and then right and then took a step closer to Cas. “I’ve kept my bonding mark covered but it’s starting to _hurt_ like a _bitch_.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said earnestly. Because he really did mean it. “I had to deal with something.”

“And what happened to your face?!” Gabe said. “Did you run into a doorway?!”

Cas quickly shook his head, bringing a hand up to cover the welt on his cheek. He had been doing his best to ignore the stares he got from everyone on the street but actually having someone ask about it was embarrassing.

At least Gabe didn’t seem to notice that Dean was missing. Cas didn’t want to draw his attention to that just yet.

Gabe then looked down at the plate in his hands and blushed even harder. “I _wasn’t_ taking this to Sam,” he blurted, shuffling from foot to foot. “I was . . . I was going to eat it myself!”

“I . . . I didn’t ask,” Cas said, not really understanding what Gabe meant.

“Well, then it doesn’t matter!” Gabe said. “Look, Luci hasn’t let him out of the playroom at all today. I haven’t seen him since last night.” He looked down at his fuzzy sock covered feet and sighed. “I’m fucking worried.”

“We can go check together,” Cas offered. He had never really seen Gabe nervous, per se. Gabe was always self-assured and confident. Now, he looked small and broken.

“Thank you,” Gabe said softly, staring down at his feet.

“Come on,” Cas said, awkwardly moving to lead the way. He wasn’t used to being the stable one. He was supposed to be the unstable one.

The playroom was locked, like Lucifer had left it last night. Cas jiggled the handle and then sighed, stepping back and looking to Gabe.

“Locked,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Here,” Gabe said, stepping to the side to a light fixture attached to the wall next to the door. He fiddled with it for a moment and then rotated it up, revealing a key that Cas never knew existed. Gabe unhooked it and slid it into the lock.

“I never knew that existed,” Cas said stupidly.

“Yeah,” Gabe said with a roll of his eyes. “I know. I did that on purpose.”

Gabe pushed the door open and stuffed the key into his pocket, balancing the plate of eggs and toast on his other hand. He then rushed into the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights. Cas paused in the doorway, groping around for the light switch for himself.

Sam was curled in the corner of the room, completely still except for the rise and fall of his ribs. His entire back was irritated red and covered in crusted blood. A stiff leather blindfold was strapped over his eyes and a wide ball gag was propped in his mouth. His arms were secured in a laced up, leather sheath and his ankles were tied to his thighs. He didn’t look up when the lights flicked on but he did flinch when Gabe dropped to his knees next to him.

“Oh fuck,” Gabe was muttering. “Oh fuck, Sam, oh _fuck_!”

Sam immediately started whining as Gabe spoke, a high-pitched, broken sound that set the hair on Cas’s arms on end. He shuddered. Gabe was openly crying now, wiping at his cheeks as if he couldn’t believe it either. He was staring down at Sam, hovering his hands over his shoulders and arms and entire body, not daring to touch but wanting to do something to help.

“Here,” Cas said, stepping to Gabe’s side.

He crouched next him, pushing his hands out of the way and setting about undoing the straps holding Sam’s arms. Sam shuddered and flinched under his touch, as if expecting something heavy handed or malicious at any moment.

“Get his blindfold and gag,” Cas muttered, nudging Gabe into action.

Gabe finally seemed to snap out of it, rushing to undo the clasps. He gently pushed aside Sam’s hair, so lovingly and carefully, before easing the snaps open and pulling the blindfold and gag off.

Sam’s eyes were squeezed shut and he didn’t open them. He only licked his lips and whined even harder, leaning up to scent the air around Gabe. Cas worked the leather sleeved off of his arms finally and Sam was finally able to relax, slumping his shoulders forward. Gabe immediately grabbed for his hands, linking their fingers. His hands were dwarfed inside Sam’s.

Cas set to work undoing the straps on Sam’s legs next, his fingers shaking as he worked, making it a more difficult. It was hard to concentrate with Gabe falling apart next to him.

“Sam, you’re going to be okay. I’m so fucking sorry,” he was saying, cradling Sam’s hands to his face, sobbing onto both of their knuckles. “Here, I brought you food. You gotta eat, okay? I need you to do that for me.”

His own hands were shaking as he let go with one hand and picked up a piece of egg with his bare hands. He pushed it against Sam’s lips, accidentally crushing it when Sam didn’t open up right away. That seemed to crush Gabe even more.

“Open up, Sam,” he whispered softly. “You gotta—you gotta eat. You can’t do this, alright, I need you to eat. For me.”

The next bite of egg, Sam gingerly took it in his teeth, chewing slowly and then swallowing. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. Gabe picked up another bite of eggs and Sam took it without complaint this time.

“Good, good,” Gabe said. He paused to wipe the tears off his cheeks and sniffed, laughing through his sobs. “Fuck, when did I become such a pussy?”

“There,” Cas murmured, finally getting the ties off of Sam’s legs.

As soon as Sam’s feet relaxed enough to touch the ground, he pushed himself up, onto his knees. Eyes still closed, he searched blindly for Gabe’s face. He probed with his fingers first and when he gently brushed against Gabe’s cheek, he leaned quickly forward, crashing his lips against Gabe’s.  

Cas flinched back, not even sure how he was supposed to react or if he was even supposed to be seeing this.  

Sam and Gabe kissed _hard_. And open-mouthed. Sam kissed with his eyes closed, and Gabe kissed with his eyes open. Shocked. Sam was basically _licking_ Gabe. Desperate.

Cas looked away.

Sam was squirming now, anxious. He was still whining too, whimpers and mewls. He looked all broken and tiny and hurt with all the blood and bruises on his skin. Cas wanted to cover him up, but Sam didn’t seem to be aware of his nakedness, squirming closer to Gabe, pressing their bodies together. He seemed unaware of how much skin on skin on skin contact that Cas was all too aware of.

“Food,” Gabe mumbled against Sam’s mouth. He was laughing through his tears, giggling a little. He groped the ground next to him, finding the plate of eggs, and grabbing a fistful. He brought them up between their mouths, shoving it half into Sam’s mouth and half into his.

Sam moaned, pulling back enough to chew and swallow and then going back to kissing Gabe.

Cas couldn’t understand how they did it. Stupidly, he imagined doing it with Dean. And then he quickly banished that from his mind. He was selfish to be thinking of Dean at this moment.

“Do you want . . . . clothes or something?” he offered, feeling even more and more like a third wheel which was a completely foreign feeling.

“Mm,” Gabe said, letting Sam push him onto his back and letting his legs fall open. Sam fit himself perfectly between them, using both of his hands to cradle Gabe’s face now.

Cas scooted away.

“We should. . . . we should go,” he tried, hoping that would snap them into action. Or at least stop them from laying on each other.

“Just wait,” Gabe said, mumbling the words into Sam’s mouth. “I don’t . . . I forgot . . . missed Sam.”  

“Well, hurry,” Cas said. “Because I’m not sure how long we have.”

That seemed to snap Gabe to his senses. He pushed away from Sam, who still had his eyes squeezed shut, and tried to squirm his way out from under Sam’s weight.

“Easy, easy,” he coaxed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam slumped back on his heels, reaching up to cover his eyes as he caught his breath. He rubbed his eyes, scrunched them even harder, and then dropped his hands to his lap, still not opening them. At least he was covering himself, albeit noncommittally and not very effectively. Cas busied himself with looking around the room, trying to find something that Sam could wear or at least cover himself with.

Cas didn’t see anything.

“Here,” Gabe said, already pulling his sweater off over his head. He shoved it into Sam’s lap. “That will do.”

Sam rolled the sweat over, feeling out the sleeves and the fabric before trying to pull it on blindly. He got it over his head, but the shoulders were much too narrow, and he got stuck. He whined softly, struggling it a little before going limp.

“No, you dork,” Gabe said, a soft smile curving his lips. He leaned forward, tugging Sam’s hands carefully out of the way and then pulling the sweater up off his head. “You can just put it around your waist.” He leaned forward, tying the arms of the sweater together behind Sam’s back. He smoothed it down over Sam’s lap with a grin. “There.”

Sam whimpered and leaned forward, searching for Gabe’s face and mouth. Again. Like he needed them to survive.

“I’m not sure Sam can stay here,” Gabe said quietly, pushing Sam’s lips away with a hand.

Sam latched into his fingers instead, cradling Gabe’s hand in his own and kissing his fingers. Cas looked away when he sucked them gently into his mouth. Gabe pulled his hands away, clenching them over his heart.

“I’ve never felt this much, Cas,” he whispered. “I don’t know why. Something in my gut, my _chest_ , says that Sam can’t stay here. Look at him.”

Cas did. He looked at the bond mark, half scabbed over and half crusted with blood. All the red marks striped across his back. The shaking of his hands as he mindlessly stroked the air, still searching for contact with Gabe. His eyes still squeezed shut, like he had been broken.

“I don’t want him hurt,” Gabe whispered.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cas said honestly.

“Luci,” Gabe said. “He. . . . um, we talked, this morning. It was a long talk. It mostly involved Sam and how things would be.”

Cas felt a lump start to grow in his throat. “Yeah?” he said, his voice cracking up without him meaning to.

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “There rules are very strict. I never—it’s beyond anything I’ve ever heard.” He looked up and frowned. “I suddenly don’t want Sam hurt and everything that Luci wants will hurt Sam and suddenly I don’t _want that_.”

Cas swallowed thickly. “What are you going to do?” he asked, his voice also a whisper.

“I have no idea,” Gabe said, staring down at his feet.

Was this what mating did to you? Turned you into a nervous mess that fretted and worried and fussed over your mate?

Sam and Gabe were back to holding hands, Sam too anxious to not have contact for long. They did it so _casually_ , like they didn't even care that Cas would see them. Cas would admit that he was kind of jealous. He couldn't do things like that with Dean even if he _wanted_.

“I can't just leave,” Gabe said. “Luci would catch on right away.” He looked up at Cas. “I noticed _Dean's_ gone.” He said it with such malice, his eyes going dark and angry.

Cas flinched back. “I-I told him to leave,” he said. “He's my medical alpha, and I told him to run to the store to get me some stuff.”

“And he never came back?” Gabe said bitterly.

Cas swallowed. “I have a different place for him to stay,” he said. “It’s none of your business.” He felt suddenly protective, defensive of his rundown, dingy apartment and the three months’ rent he had paid. That was _his_. Dean was his.

“Fine,” Gabe said. “Save your own alpha. I'll take care of Sam by myself. Come on.”

He pulled Sam to his feet, bracing him under his arm to help him stand. Together, they limped out the door. Sam snuffled at Gabe's shoulder, scenting him like a kit. And then, suddenly, they were gone. Cas felt kind of bad, his heart hurt in a way that he was quickly getting used to. He pushed himself to his feet and hurried out of the room by himself, turning down the opposite hallway as Gabe and Sam.

Cas hurried to his own room, grabbing a duffel bag from his closet and stuffing clothes in by the fistful. He didn't double check anything, just grabbed a handful of socks, a couple shirts, pairs of pants, cramming into his bag so he could fit as much as possible. He grabbed his pillows of his bed too, folding one of the lighter blankets to add on top of his pile. He ripped the sheets off of his bed too and balled them up, adding them to his slowly growing pile.

He emptied the bathroom of its shampoos and toothpastes, dumping it all into a plastic bag. He then moved onto his desk, carefully packing up his laptop, phone, charging cords, an extra credit card he found in an envelope that had been opened end stuffed in a random drawer. He surveyed his room, wondering if he had missed anything. He didn't dare risk going to the kitchen and getting caught, so he was limited to stuff from here. He gathered it all up in his arms and, as fast as he could, waddled out of his room.

He made it to the front doors without seeing either Luce or Gabe. The taxi driver gave him a strange look at all the stuff he dumped into the backseat, but Cas shrugged of his unspoken questions.

“We can go,” he said.

As the taxi pulled out of the driveway, Cas prayed that Dean hadn't ripped the apartment apart while he had been gone. And then Cas realized he probably smelled like Sam, and that would _definitely_ make Dean freak out. Cas sighed and dropped his head into his hands. This was going to take some getting used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's done with Finals ^0^


	4. Broken But Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ThrackerzodTheFandomNerd: you said you wanted chapters with Sam's pov, so here is the start of that. There will be more in the future, so I hope you enjoy! ^-^

Sam wanted darkness.

He wanted blackness.

He wanted things to be blocked out so that he would never have to look or feel anything ever again. He was vaguely aware of every time he pissed himself and he was vaguely aware of every time Gabe moved him to clean up. Sam couldn't bring himself to ever open his eyes and acknowledge his situation.

Now he suckled gently on Gabe's scent glands, his sense of smell being the only thing he didn't want gone. He rested his cheek on the spit soaked skin, as softly as he could nursing on the tangy-sweet-Gabe taste of his shoulder.

His hands were in mitts. Gabe had put them there after he tried to claw himself during bath time. His knot was in a cage. But Sam hurt too much to actually get hard, or horny, or do anything. If his rut came now, Sam would probably sleep through the whole thing. His eyes were closed, but there was no blindfold. Gabe didn't give him one. Sam kinda wanted one. It would be easier that keeping his eyes constantly squeezed shut.

“Lunchtime,” Game murmured, nudging Sam up.

Sam didn't want to move. He whimpered as Gabe slipped away from his side and he was left to paw at the empty sheets with his fisted hands. When Gabe didn't say anything and didn't immediately return to his side like usual, Sam whined louder, lifting his head to scent the air, panting through his open mouth.

“Hey, I'm still here,” Gabe said, sounding and smelling like he was across the room. Footsteps as he walked back to the bed. “Here.”

A thick, rubber nipple was shoved into Sam's mouth and he instinctively started sucking. The protein shake, or smoothie, or whatever it was, was heavy and filling and tasted like vanilla and strawberries. Sam was never hungry but he drank because Gabe wanted him to. He swallowed without thinking mostly hating how he knew it would eventually come back out of him against his control.

“Good boy,” Gabe coaxed in a soft voice, and that made Sam's chest go warm.

He reached out with his hand, feeling for Gabe. He sighed in relief when Gabe took his mitten-covered fist. He relaxed and finished the bottle of food. He was grateful when Gabe pulled the nipple out of his mouth and he was able to relax back against the mattress again. He curled around himself as Gabe walked back across the room, running water as he presumably washed whatever bottle Sam had just used. Sam burrowed under the blankets and pillows, choosing the one that smelled most like Gabe and shoving it in his face.

“Hey, Sam,” Gabe said. “Do you think you wanna—you wanna try standing? You haven’t gotten up in a while.”

Sam wrapped his arms around his head, immediately feeling himself shake. No, no, no, no, no! He didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant facing the world. Getting up meant cracking open all the welts and scabs on his back. Getting up meant stretching out his arms and legs instead of staying in a nice, tiny ball.

Gabe’s hand rested gently on his shoulder, and Sam automatically winced, expecting to be struck for his disobedience.

“You can’t stay in bed forever,” Gabe said, and his voice and scent weren’t angry. “Look, Luci isn’t around. He went out for a drink. It’s just you and me.”

At Luci’s name, Sam screamed. All the memories of the playroom and the horror and the beatings rushed back into his mind and set the welts on his shoulders and back on fire. He clawed at his face, wanting to tear out his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see and that he wouldn’t have to look and see Luci’s disgust or Gabe’s disappointment.

“Hey! Hey! Sam!” Gabe was shouting now, jumping on him to grab his hands and sit on his chest.

Sam went limp underneath him, focusing on Gabe above all else.

Gabe was mate. Mate was good. Mate was safe. Gabe was safe.

Sam moaned and practically melted as Gabe’s lips met his, and he kissed back eagerly. Gabe’s weight on his chest was reassuring and steady and his scent was all worry and care.

Sam didn’t want him to worry so he pulled away from the kiss and blindly sought out Gabe’s scent glands, sighing in relief as he was able to go back to gently nursing them. Gabe sighed and eased off his chest, rolling to the side so they could lay there together.

Worry and care gave way to relaxed and tired, nutty and sweet.

Good mate. Good mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Sam cuddled into the concept of mate, satisfied that someone cared and someone would stay.

Gabe ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, and Sam purred at the sensation. The rumbles reached up from his chest and into his ears, blocking out everything except Gabe and him.

Mate, mate, mate. This was nice.

“You know we can’t stay here forever,” Gabe murmured.

Sam didn’t want to think about that.

“You have to get up some time,” Gabe continued.

No. Sam would never.

“We can wait until you feel better,” Gabe settled on. “Wait until your skin heals. I think you’ve lost weight. We can wait though. We can wait.”

Sam wanted to wait. He was glad they could wait. He kissed Gabe gently on the side of the neck as a thank you and snuggled closer, purring louder. Gabe’s hands left his hair and trailed down his back. Gabe’s arms weren’t long enough to reach further than his lower back, and Sam relaxed into the strokes.

They laid there for a long time. At least, in Sam’s mind it was long. Time seemed to crawl for him anyway and Sam tried to not let it bother him too much. He satisfied himself with scenting Gabe over and over and keeping his breaths deep and even. He couldn't doze off. He hadn't felt tired at all yet. Sometimes, he would have times were he blacked out subconsciously, dreaming no dreams and opening his eyes without remembering what he had just did. But he was never tired.

Gabe’s breathing remained shallow and quick, never deepening enough to signal that he was asleep. And his fingers always traced circles on Sam’s back and shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered after a while. “I didn’t . . . . . I wasn’t thinking. And I haven’t said I’m sorry yet. I wanted to say it.”

Sam purred and nuzzled Gabe’s neck, wanting to reassure his mate. That he didn’t have to worry. Sam was fine, he just didn’t want to ever see the world ever again. Sam was fine.

“And I talked a little to Luci about the mating thing,” Gabe went on. “He still doesn’t like it. But he thinks you’ve . . . . learned your lesson. He’s going to be staying at the house for a bit still, but as long as you don’t draw his attention, you’ll be fine. I think.”

Fine, fine, Sam was always fine. He didn’t need the food and he didn’t need to see and he was _fine_. What did he have to do to show Gabe that?

Sam squirmed, pulling himself up so that he could lean closer to Gabe’s ear. He kissed around the spot before settling down and leaning even closer.

“Fine,” he whispered softly, feeling his voice crack as he forced the word out of his chest.

Gabe stiffened next to him, going rigid before grabbing Sam’s hand and sitting up. “Sam?!” he said. “You talked?!”

Sam cowered at the movement, scared when Gabe moved too fast. He didn’t like that but he nodded obediently, curling up on the mattress.

“Sam, you wanna talk more? You gotta . . . tell me how you feel okay?” Gabe said, grabbing his other hand and trying to pull him upright.

Sam let himself go limp, not wanting to sit up but not wanting to resist Gabe. He knew Gabe couldn’t lift his full weight so he just went dead and waited until Gabe gave up.

“You’re not fine,” Gabe said. “You aren’t and you know it, Sam. Come on, if you’re well enough to talk and well enough to eat, you should be well enough to sit up and kiss me on the lips.”

Sam perked up at that suggestion, rolling onto his back in interest. He winced at the pull of fabric against his wounds but ignored it. He scented the air, trying to gauge how serious Gabe’s offer had been and if it really was worth it. Gabe smelled like apples and cinnamon sugar so using his elbows, Sam pushed himself halfway up.

“Mate,” he said, the word coming a little bit easier than the last time.

Gabe met him halfway, hooking his arms underneath Sam’s armpits and pulling him as hard as he could. The motion caused the scabs on Sam’s shoulders to stretch, and he was pretty sure one cracked open but he didn’t care.

All he cared about was mate, mate, mate and being close and being there and touching and tasting his mate. His silly little mate who worried too much about him. Sam kissed Gabe, trying to take away that worry.

He even left himself be dragged completely upright, settling on his aching ass and actually putting in enough effort to keep himself upright. And since Gabe seemed so happy to hear him speak and Sam had gotten such a good reaction, he nuzzled up against Gabe's jaw and tried again.

“Mate, mate, mate,” he chanted, the words coming easier and easier.

Gabe laughed and then pulled away with a sigh. Sam whined, wondering if he had done something wrong.

“How do you feel?” Gabe asked. “Come on, Sam. How do you _feel_?”

Sam tried to nuzzle his way back into the crook of Gabe’s neck, ignoring the question and hoping that it would go away. He wanted to go back to kissing. What did he had to say to go back to kissing?

Gabe cupped his face and pushed him away, holding him at arm’s length and forcing him to sit upright and stay upright. Sam squeezed his eyes shut tighter, not wanting to accidentally crack them open and see Gabe’s disappointment. Gabe sounded stern, not angry. He didn’t smell angry either so Sam let himself be held in place.

How did he feel? That was a strange question. Sam wasn’t sure how to answer. He didn’t feel. He didn’t feel anything at the moment. He just wanted Gabe, he wanted his mate. Why did they have to talk about stupid things like feelings?

“Sam,” Gabe said sternly, as if sensing that his mind was starting to wander. “Talk. Feelings.” He sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Please?”

Sam’s heart jumped, and he hated himself for hurting his mate. He swallowed thickly and ducked his head. Apparently there was no avoiding it.

“Hurt,” he said and cleared his throat. “I’m . . . hurt. It hurts.”

Gabe wrapped his arms around him in a hug, already crying into Sam’s shoulder as he squeezed him tight. Sam went limp instinctively, uncomfortable with the way his skin crawled as Gabe’s scent changed drastically with his tears. He grabbed Gabe back, going back to sucking gently on the scent glands, purring in an effort to calm Gabe down.

“I know you’re hurt,” Gabe said between his tears. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I didn’t know Luci would go that far!”

“Not your fault,” Sam said, tucking Gabe up under his chin. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not!” Gabe said. He had pulled himself together enough to stop his tears but he didn’t let go of Sam. Not yet.

“I’m with you,” Sam said, carefully brushing Gabe’s hair away from his forehead. The strands were slightly greasy. He needed a shower. “I am fine. Mate.”

Gabe shuddered his grip, his scent plunging down into sorrow and uncontrolled fear. “I can’t take care of you,” he muttered. “I’m just going to hurt you more. Sam, I can’t take care of you.”

Sam purred and gently guided Gabe so that they laid on the bed again, side by side. Gabe was tucked close to his chest, and this way, Sam could bury his face halfway into the pillow so that he didn’t have to focus on keeping his eyes closed so much.

“Mate,” he said, trying to purr as loudly as he could. “You didn’t hurt me. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Gabe was shivering in his arms, so Sam curled around his tighter, trying to warm him up. Gabe’s scent didn’t change from that deep, haunting sorrow, smelling like bitter smoke. Sam didn’t pull away. Instead, he tried to change that scent back to happiness, trying to lighten it up even if it made his eyes water.

“I promise I won’t,” Gabe whispered into his chest. His words were almost drowned out by Sam’s purring. “I’m gonna help you, Sam, okay? I’m going to help you.”

Sam hummed, contented. Gabe’s scent was mellowing out and he no longer smelled like tears. And Gabe was already helping him, just by being there. Sam gently licked his scent glands to tell him that. Gabe didn’t have to do anything else as long as he didn’t leave.

 


	5. Good Job

Dean ended up following Cas's advice and slept on the mattress in the bedroom. In fact, he was sleeping when the rattle of keys in the front door made him snap upright. With his teeth bared and ready for a fight, he rushed out of the bedroom just in time to see Cas walk through the front door and dump several bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and a duffel bag on the floor.

Dean immediately relaxed. Until he caught the scent of Sam but didn't see him.

“Where is he?!” he said, rushing forward. He was going to push past Cas and out the door, but Cas pushed him back.

“Stop, Dean!” he said, shoving his foot in the way of the door and grabbing Dean’s shirt to yank him back. “Sam isn’t here!”

The words hit Dean in the chest. _Hard_. He rocked back on his heels and stared dumbly at Cas, not really sure if he had heard right. He just didn’t want to believe. Finally he shook his head, trying to push his way back to the door.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked again, giving Cas a hard look. “Where. Is. Sam.” Panic was welling in his chest, making his heart pound and his breath come in short pants. “Cas?! Where is he?! Where is Sam?!”

“Woah, woah, easy!” Cas said, taking him by the shoulders and pushing him away from the door. He guided him backwards, out of the small kitchenette and into the small living room.

Before Dean could speak, Cas was pushing him back down on the ratty couch. He planted his hands on Dean’s shoulders to keep him down, and before Dean could say anything, Cas was climbing onto his lap, cupping his face and focusing his eyes on him.

“Breathe,” he said.

Dean couldn’t.

All he could think about was the way Cas’s thighs were wrapped around his waist. The way Cas’s hands were touching his face. The way Cas’s breath ghosted on his skin. The way Cas’s scent washed over him, calming and reassuring and before Dean knew what he was doing, he was reaching up and holding Cas’s face steady, locking eyes with him, staring deep into their blue, blue depths and hating that he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Breathe,” Cas repeated, softer this time. Like he was getting lost in Dean’s eyes just as much as Dean was getting lost in his.

Dean did.

He breathed in Cas’s scent, fear mixed with licorice mixed with calm and care. The combination made Dean heady, almost delirious, and once he took that first breath he had to have more. His small, uneven pants lengthened into steady, measured breaths.

“Good?” Cas said, still staring down at him with concern in his eyes.

“Sam,” Dean couldn’t help but say. Because Cas’s shirt still kind of smelled like Sam, and Dean wasn’t about to give him up _that_ easily.

“He’s back at the house,” Cas said. “Gabe is taking care of him. I mean seriously taking care of him. I think now that they’re mated Gabe cares a lot more than he bargained for.”

“Oh, god, thank you,” Dean said, slumping back on the couch as he went limp. He let his hands drop from Cas’s face down next to his knees, letting his head drop back, not caring about anything else.

Sam was safe. Well, as safe as Sam could get. Dean wanted Sam to be _here_ , at the apartment because that would be the safest. But he could settle for Sam being with Gabe. Mated meant Gabe was invested, and omegas didn’t let their investments go to waste.

Cas sat back too, resting completely on Dean’s legs. His weight was reassuring instead of painful, a reminder that Dean wasn’t alone. He dropped his hands from Dean’s face and looked away.

“I got food too,” he said. “It’s over. . . in the bags. I tried to get stuff that could be prepared easily but I guess I’m not used to cooking by myself. I asked a worker and they helped me.”

Dean imagined Cas timidly approaching some store worker and asking what food could be made easily and what food couldn’t. Cas, coming from the lap of relative luxury, and now Cas in this lap of this disgusting trash heap. Cas had probably hemmed and hawed over the cheap foods, baffled by the limited options and lack of expensive tastes.

Dean imagined Cas eating cup noodles. He imagined Cas eating frozen pizza. He imagined Cas eating anything that could be cooked in the oven for under thirty minutes.

He smiled.

“What?” Cas said. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. He didn’t feel like moving out from under Cas so he stayed where he was, limp and relaxed. He smiled again. “You.”

Cas frowned. “I'm not funny,” he said. “I'm saving both of our asses.”

And there was the fire-y desire to kiss Cas was back, nearly all consuming and so sudden that Dean actually grabbed Cas's hands and started to pull him down.

And then he caught himself and froze, fingers still laced together and staring each other in the eye.

“Dean?” Cas said softly.

Dean swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was gonna show you the food. Can I get up?”

Dean felt his neck go hot and he immediately released Cas's hands. “Yeah! Of course!” he said, probably a little too forcefully.

With his eyes down, Cas pushed himself up and off of Dean's lap, limping a little to let his legs wake up. He made his way over to the bags he had left on the counter. Dean pushed himself up too, following him at a distance and giving him plenty of room.

“What do you think?” Cas said, unpacking the bags.

He pulled out handfuls of packages of cup noodles and ramen, two packages of still-cold pizza pockets, five frozen pizzas, a dozen cans of soup, a gallon of milk, and a jumbo sized container of peanut butter. Along with all of that, he pulled out two, cheap plastic plates, boxes of plastic utensils, and two plastic cups.

“I tried to get stuff that wouldn’t go bad or had a small prep time,” Cas explained, sorting through all the packages and finally picking up the pizza pockets and pizzas. He carried them to the fridge and, with a little struggle, managed to unstick the door and put them away.

“Yeah, it all looks good,” Dean said, picking up several of the cup noodles and ramen packages and finding a cupboard to put them in.

He could remember summer days when his mom couldn’t be bothered to make something from scratch and she would throw a frozen pizza into the oven and let them have at it. Or Sunday nights when he and Sam would cuddle up on the couch in front of the TV with their favorite movie on with bowls of ramen steaming in their hands. This was all comfort food for him and honestly, Dean was looking forward to eating it.

“I also got some clothes and stuff from the house,” Cas went on, jerking his chin at the duffel bag still sitting on the floor by the door.

Dean clenched his teeth. So Cas could grab _clothes_ but not Sam? But then he gave up the anger. It took too much effort to be mad at Cas, and even though he was an omega, there were things that were just out of Cas’s control no matter how hard he tried. Dean just bent and grabbed the bag.

“You want it in the bedroom?” he asked.

Cas was putting the milk away now. “Sure,” he said. “Um, maybe something can be hung up in the closet? I’m not sure how clean the dresser is.”

Dean nodded and moved to obey. He didn’t want to make the place home. He didn’t want to unpack the bags or make the bed or put food in the cupboards. That meant they would be staying here for a long time, and Dean didn’t want to stay here for a long time. Still, he obediently unpacked the duffel into the dresser, folding the shirts and pants and sweaters carefully. He hurried with the socks and underwear, not wanting to get caught handling them too long. He took his time stretching the sheet over the mattress and smooth the blanket down carefully. With the pillows, it actually looked comfortable enough to sleep in.

When Dean got back to the kitchen, he immediately spotted Cas slumped on the floor, head in his hands and a half open can of soup at his feet. He was _sobbing_. With a rush of panic, Dean jumped to his side, pulling him up and away from the grimy linoleum tiles.

Dean hadn’t even smelled the sadness from the bedroom. He was caught so off guard and that made him panic even more.

“Hey, hey! Cas! What’s wrong?!” he said.

“Bowls,” Cas muttered, pulling himself together enough to speak and wiping tears and snot on the back of his hand. “I forgot fucking bowls. We can’t eat the fucking soup. I’m an _idiot_.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Dean said, pulling Cas out of the kitchen and to the couch. It was like Deja vu. “Look, I have a solution.”

After making sure Cas wasn’t going to fall onto the floor, Dean moved back into the kitchen. He carefully picked up the can of soup and opened it all the way. It took him a moment to figure out how to turn on the stove but he did and, after tearing the paper off the can, set it in the middle of a burner. He then opened the package of plastic spoons and took one out. He didn’t want it to melt from the heat so he stirred the soup quickly for only a couple seconds at a time until it was bubbling and the smell was filling the apartment. Dean grabbed another spoon from the box and returned to the living room.

“See?” he said, sitting down next to Cas, careful not to spill the soup. “Look, we can still eat it without bowls.” He passed the second spoon over to Cas.

Thankfully, Cas had stopped crying for the most part and he took a spoonful of chicken broth. He puffed on it a couple times to cool it down and then put it in his mouth.

“It’s good,” he mumbled around the spoon and sniffed. “Thank you.”

“See?” Dean said. He took his own spoonful, balancing a couple noodles and a slice of celery and eating it. “Just as good out of a can as it is out of a bowl.”

They took turns taking bites, and Dean made sure Cas ate more than just broth. Dean let Cas drink the remaining broth once they were done too, making sure he finished everything before taking the can and spoons back to the kitchen, setting them in the sink.

The first bursts of water that came out of the faucet were tinged a little orange but then it cleared up and started flowing freely. Dean rinsed both the can and spoons before leaving them to dry next to the sink. He flapped his hands to dry them and checked up on Cas again, wanted to make sure he wasn’t crying again.

It was like taking care of Zoey, he realized. Making sure Cas had food and making sure Cas was okay and making sure Cas hadn’t hurt himself doing anything. It came like second nature to Dean, although he made sure not to scoop Cas up or carry him anywhere like Dean would do to Zoey. Cas wasn’t that small.

But Dean looked at him, sitting on the couch with near perfect posture and just staring blankly at the wall. Maybe Cas _was_ small enough to pick up. He couldn’t be bigger than Oscar or Amber and Dean had wrestled them before. If Dean wanted to, he probably could scoop Cas up and carry him around.

“Wasn’t that good?” he said. “No bowls and we did just fine.”

“How did you know how to do that?” Cas asked, looking up at him finally. His tears had cleared up but his cheeks were still splotchy.

Dean shrugged. “I watched my mom,” he said. “I watched my dad. He didn’t always cook things traditionally. He learned to improvise and I learned to improvise from him.”

“That’s cool,” Cas said. He fidgeting with his hands for a moment, picking at his fingernails before pushing himself to his feet with a gusty sigh. “I guess we’d better do something about this apartment, huh?”

“If I had soap and a washcloth I could probably get these floors to shine,” Dean offered. He tried to keep his tone light and joking, trying to get Cas to smile.

Cas didn’t smile. “I don’t have any soap,” he said and then perked up. “I have shampoo!”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t see why that wouldn’t work,” he said.

Using the two wash clothes that Cas had grabbed from the house, they plugged and filled the sink with warm, shampoo-y water. Dean wrung his washcloth out and sunk to his knees, starting in the middle of the kitchen. He was going to work outward, leaving the edges right against the counter for last since that would be the hardest.

He was surprised when Cas knelt down next to him, much more awkwardly, having to go down on one knee and then the other. He wasn’t as smooth as Dean was, but he probably didn’t have practice sinking to his knees often.

“Here?” he asked before starting to scrub with his own dripping washcloth.

“You don’t have to,” Dean blurted. “I can—I can do the floors all by myself.”

Cas shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll be living here too. And I have nothing else to do.”

“O-okay,” Dean said, unable to stop the wavering in his voice.

They scrubbed the floor side by side, the suds quickly turning brown. They had to get up and down a lot to re-dunk their wash clothes in the sink and they ended up having to refill it when the water go too brown and dirty.

It felt like hours before they finally finished the kitchen, and Dean’s arms and shoulders ached. He hadn’t worked that hard since the training facility. It was a good ache though, a sign that he was doing good work. Cas didn’t seem to be doing much better than him.

He scrubbed his own sections double-handed, up and down with huge strokes. He frowned down at his work, concentrating so hard that his forehead furled and drew his eyebrows together. He was focused on one spot in particular. Dean knew it was a stain with one glance, but Cas seemed determined to scrub it out. His arms were shaking every time he hobbled to his feet to re-dunk his cloth. Dean figured he would give up, but as he watched Cas get up for the fourth time, he decided he’d better intervene.

“That’s a stain,” he said, catching Cas’s cloth as he dunked it under the water at the sink. “It’s not coming out no matter how hard you scrub.”

“Oh,” Cas said. His cheeks were flushed from exertion and he leaned against the counter. He was breathing hard, much harder than Dean. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Dean said. He wrung out both clothes and dunked his hand into the water to unplug the drain.

Cas was staring at his hands, as if mesmerized by the shaking. “Is washing the floor always that hard?”

Dean shrugged. “Usually I have a mop,” he said. “Or something similar, so I’m not down on my hands and knees.” He looked at the floor, not quite dry yet and glimmering with water still. “Plus this was really dirty. It was hard to clean so you did a good job.”

Maybe he was treating Cas a little too much like Zoey. She loved hearing that she did a good job after completing particularly hard tasks. But Cas was beaming at his words, clenching his hands into shaky fists and puffing out his chest proudly.

“We did good,” he said, as if he had just decided that then and there.

Dean nodded and turned his head to hide his smile. Maybe he should try treating Cas more like Zoey. That seemed to work better than he realized. Dean almost laughed at the idea of giving Cas a lump of play dough to keep him occupied and happy. Okay, maybe not _exactly_ like he would treat Zoey.

“Is there anything else we should do?” Dean said. There wasn’t as much to do in the apartment as there was in the house. Would they just sit until it was time to go to bed?

“I’m going to set up my laptop,” Cas said. “And see if I can find some stuff that will help. You can do whatever you want.” He looked at the door and then corrected himself. “But you can’t leave.”

Dean shrugged and nodded. “Okay,” he said. It wasn’t like he was planning on leaving anyway.

Cas gathered up his second bag which presumably had his laptop in it and retreated to the bedroom. Dean spied from the kitchen, watching as Cas sat down on the bed, shifted around until he found a comfortable spot and then opened his laptop. Dean got bored after that, just watching Cas’s impassive face lit by the blue screen.

So Dean straightened up the kitchen a little bit, put the plates, cups, and boxes of utensils in one of the empty cupboards. He made sure all the packages of cup noodle were stacked neatly and the cans of soup were all arranged with their labels out. Then there was nothing else to do so Dean sat down in the living room on the couch and stared at the wall.

It wasn’t _too_ boring. He counted the nails that had been hammered in to hang picture frames and such. He counted the cobwebs too and followed the cracks to see where they went. The water marks on the ceiling made a shape similar to a giant pizza. There were even darker spots that could be pepperoni. Dean decided that he was too hungry to be imaging pizzas on the ceiling and stared down at his hands instead.

Things would be a lot more interesting and fun and _better_ with Sam.

Dean glanced to the door and then shook off that idea. He had to stay with Cas. He couldn’t leave him. The comforting squeeze of his vest reminded him of what he had been trained for. He had new responsibilities now, and those responsibilities were making sure Cas was okay.

Dean cocked his head, listening to the clatter of typing as Cas worked. Dean scented the place over too. Since they had used Cas’s shampoo to clean the floors, the place smelled mostly like him after a shower, Dean could pick out the scent of Cas’s mellowed relaxation and contentment coming from the bedroom. Dean settled down on his place on the couch, comforted by the fact that, at the moment, Cas was okay. That meant he was doing his job right.

Dean smiled at the wall and scented one last time, satisfied when nothing had changed about Cas’s scent. That meant he was doing a good job.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does it feel like the story is slowing down? I feel like I'm running out of plot,, 
> 
> Don't worry, I have plenty of more chapters coming, but the conflict feels like it's falling flat


	6. Start at the Beginning

When it was time to go to bed, Dean immediately volunteered to sleep on the couch and before Cas could protest or invite him into the bedroom, Dean was arranging the cushions and settling down. Cas bit his lip, debating whether he should invite Dean into the bedroom.

In all honesty, Cas would have felt safer with Dean on the ground next to the mattress than with Dean on the couch. But Dean was already rolling over, turning his back to Cas, not allowing for any discussion on the matter. So Cas bit his lip and retreated into the bedroom.

He changed his clothes, carefully folding up his day clothes and putting them in a drawer. He then gathered the top and only blanket off the mattress and carried it out to Dean. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Cas draped the blanket over him, tucking in the edges carefully so that Dean wouldn’t kick it off in his sleep. When he was satisfied that Dean was sufficiently covered, Cas yawned and made his way back to the bedroom.

The mattress didn’t look as comfortable or as enticing without the blanket on it, but Cas laid down anyway. He had to roll a couple times before finding a spot that wasn’t lumpy and turned on his side so he could curve around a spring that dug into his lower back.

He stared out at the darkness, listening the sounds of the street right outside, faint yells and shouts of teens out past their curfew. His room didn’t even have a window. The sounds just leaked through the thin walls in a way that Cas had never experienced before. He was used to thick, safe walls that let no sound in and no sound out.

A siren started wailing somewhere in the city, close enough to make Cas flinch. He almost sat up in bed but caught himself and forced himself to relax. He tried rolling over and staring at the other wall. How was he supposed to sleep like this?

He felt too strung up, not tired at all. He didn't dare look at his phone though, fearing the texts and missed calls he undoubtedly had from Gabe and Lucifer. It took too much effort to pull out his laptop and open it. So he was stuck staring at the wall with only his wandering thoughts.

And of course his thoughts wandered to Dean, just a room away, not even a door between them, sleeping on the couch and not next to Cas. And thinking about Dean made him think about Sam and Gabe. Cas thought about the bond Sam and Gabe now shared and wondered if Dean wanted that kind of bond.

Not just the bond, either. Did Dean want that kind of touching? That kind of slow caress from a person you trusted? That kind of steady hand that you could always grab onto and that steady shoulder always open if you needed to lean on it? Dean had that in Sam but that wasn’t a _bond_ really, it was just family. Did Dean want something like that out of Cas?

Did Cas want something like that out of Dean?

The thought made him pause as he honestly considered it. Now just what would that life be like exactly? Cas sorted through the list of things mates did with each other, checking which ones sounded appealing and which ones made him want to curl in on himself.

Talking and/or general communication. Cas _loved_ talking with Dean. If he could talk to Dean about everything in his life, Cas would. Dean listened and smiled and joked. He made things better, and Cas wanted to talk to Dean about all his problems because he always seemed to have an answer. But Cas couldn’t do that. He couldn’t talk to Dean about this particular problem. And Cas liked listening to Dean too. The way he talked about people and things gave Cas a perspective he never had before. Cas _loved_ talking.

Cuddling and/or touching. Cas could stand the contact. He _liked_ the contact. It was a little nerve wracking when he didn’t know if the other person wanted to go further or not, but all the times Cas had touched Dean in small ways had been good experiences. The times when they had fallen asleep within reach of each other had been nice, and Cas felt that weird flip flopping in his stomach every time. Cas could learn to love the constant touching.

Nakedness and/or sex. This is where Cas stopped. Not that clothes were a thing he got stuck on. He was used to people seeing his body and seeing other people’s bodies. It just happened. There was a 90% chance that a trip to the grocery store would result in seeing genitals whether male or female. Now actually _doing_ something with said genitals—that is where Cas pulled up short.

What he had told Gabe so long ago, that much was true. He didn’t touch himself, didn’t really care about that. He had enjoyed the smells of alphas and omegas when he could, drinking in other people’s arousal and happiness and mimicking it for himself. But without that prompting, even when he _could_ smell, Cas was horribly boring by himself. Gabe said so.

Cas bit his lip and stared at the particular darkness that gathered in the corners of the room.

Did Dean want that?

Cautiously. Slowly. He reached down, slipping his hand inside his sweatpants and then past the elastic of his underwear. He cupped himself gently first, getting a feel for it. He took a deep breath and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes even though he couldn’t see anything anyway.

His dick was soft in his hand, well-cleaned he knew because he made sure of it. He gave it a few experimental strokes, coaxing it to half-mast. But then the rough drag of skin on skin made him wince so his awkwardly spit on his other hand and tried that instead.

He bit his lip and forced himself to relax.

He thought of Dean instead. He imagined Dean touching him like this. With his dry hand, he cupped his balls, giving them a slow massage. With his wet hand, he continued to stroke his dick up and down in long, even strokes. Top to bottom.

Cas imagined Dean’s hands, fingers deft and nimble from doing detailed household chores. He imagined Dean’s hands tickling the insides of his hips, circling his dick, stroking him like he was stroking himself.

Cas was fully hard now and he had to hitch his hips up to tug his pants down enough, not even down to his knees, just enough so that he could reach down and pressed a single finger against his hole. And that’s where he stopped, mind going a million miles an hour. He wasn’t even thinking about Dean anymore.

He remembered the clubs. He knew omegian biology. He had gone to _damn school._

“Aren’t you wet for me?” strip alphas had crooned at him before, well taught in talking dirty. They would palm their crotches and give him seductive looks with half-lidded eyes. “Aren’t you all wet and ready for me, Omega?”

Cas thought it was a figure of speech. Lube was a thing that would help when his biology wasn’t enough. He never realized someone could get _wet—_ as in so wet they were dripping—until he had watched a couple at a club, one alpha and one omega, making out at a bar and a wet spot soaking through the back of the omega’s admittedly too-short shorts.

“Yeah,” Cas would tell the alphas anyway, giggling to himself as this man, woman, _alpha_ bent over backward to make him feel good. “Soooo wet for you, Alpha.”

Cas hadn’t been wet then.

He wasn’t wet now.

The muscles of his hole gave way under his finger, letting it in with a slight burn. But they were designed to give, to stretch. Not dry, but at least not prohibiting entrance. Inside Cas was wet. Not _wet_. Damp. His muscles contracted around his finger, squeezing it, pulling it, trying to both push it out and pull it in.

He pulled his finger out, rubbing his entrance, trying to coax out slick even a little. He’d stopped touching his dick and now it bobbed pathetically, quickly losing interest in his explorations.

He pushed his finger in again, harder this time, a little more frustrated with himself. He pumped it, seeing progress as he grew wet ever so slowly. He coaxed himself along, focusing until he guessed there was enough slick for two fingers and pushing them in. He was so busy focusing on his hole that it took him a moment to realize that he was no longer hard.

His dick flopped soft onto his thigh, bouncing with his movements but that was it. It was still wet with his spit and the small bit a precum at its tip. Cas pulled one hand away from his hole, fingers sticky with slick, and grabbed it, pumping it earnestly.

His hole flexed around his fingers now, clenching at every stroke of his dick as it tried to suck his fingers deeper. He pumped his fingers in and out, timing it with his strokes.

He was getting wetter now, not dripping but enough that his hole didn’t burn as it stretched around his fingers. He moved faster, grunting a little as the sensations took over. He used his own slick now to ease the pull on his dick, swapping hands every now and then.

He could feel the build in his stomach. That’s where it started at least, and then it moved downwards. Cas abandoned his hole and focused on his dick, cupping his balls in a hand sticky with his own slick and speeding up his strokes and he felt himself getting closer to climax.

With a gasp and a clench of muscles, Cas spilled over into his hands. He slumped against the mattress as the high rode through him, keeping one hand cupped carefully around the head of his dick, catching the cum.

He sighed and relaxed, forgetting what it felt like to have that orgasmic high. And then he realized he was stuck with his hand filled with gunk and, as he shifted, the sheets starting to glue to the backs of his thighs due to his slick.

Cas grunted and rolled upright, his legs and arms a little shaky and unsteady, not completely recovered. He struggled to kick his pants completely off because now they were ruined too. He balled them up and kicked them away before sneaking out the bedroom door. He paused, cocking his head to catch the steady in and out of Dean’s breathing. He waited several moments because he definitely didn’t want to get caught before rushing out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

The bathroom, thankfully, did have a door, and Cas closed it. He ripped the faucet on and rinsed his hands without looking, not wanting to watch the cloudy water flow down the drain. When he was sure he was clean, he moved to dry his hands and realized that the bathroom was under stocked. Not just under stocked. Not stocked at all. No toilet paper, no towels. There were the two washcloths he grabbed, sitting on the counter all neatly folded. That was how Dean had left them. Cas flapped his hands dry and stared down at his legs.

With a resigned sigh, he grabbed a washcloth and turned the water to warm. He dunked the cloth under the water and squeezed it out. He picked a spot on the ceiling, staring intently as he reached between his legs for a second time and cleaned himself up.

It was awkward and humiliating, and Cas wondered why anyone did this.

Was this attractive? Was this _sexy_? Standing with one leg on the toilet so that he could reach back into his crack and get all the sticky gunk? Standing in the dingy bathroom that had mold in the cracks of the wall tiles? Standing here, regretting that brief moment of bliss because now he felt dirty? Sexy as _hell_.

Cas washed himself twice just to be sure and then he rinsed the cloth too, leaving it underneath the other so that it wouldn’t be the first one used if Dean came into the bathroom.

He cracked open the bathroom door, made sure Dean’s breathing was still steady, and ducked back into his bedroom. He kicked his pants into the corner and rummaged around the drawers for another pair of underwear and sweatpants. He pulled the sheets off the mattress too, hating how much he had ruined. Apparently he would be figuring out the laundromat tomorrow.

Cas crawled onto the bare mattress, grimacing at the scratch of old fabric and missing his sheets already. He curled around a pillow instead. He closed his eyes, exhaustion taking his body down, that high moment of bliss sinking into low low comfort. He felt good. Not bad.

He wondered if that’s what Dean wanted.

He wondered if he could sit still long enough to give Dean that.

The thought of other hands on his skin, maybe it was because he was already satisfied, but Cas felt jumpy at that thought. If Dean had him laid out—if Cas was laid out on a bed like that for Dean—he didn’t think he would be able to stay still. He would shiver and twitch and jump. He would giggle and squirm, and Cas blushed, imagining how he would have to touch Dean back, unable to keep his hands to himself.

No, Cas wasn’t sure he could sit still.

And then he quickly pulled himself back from that sort of dream. He shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, not when it was something that would probably never ever happen. Cas’s fingers twitched, clenching in the fabric of the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, he chanted in his mind, hoping to force himself to rest just by sheer will. But his traitorous mind went back to Dean.

Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean. Talking, cuddling, naked. Cas winced at the pain as he imagined the mating bite. How would it feel to have Dean’s teeth break through his skin? Sam’s bite had looked so red and inflamed the day after. Cas hated when he got hurt. He was scared of getting sicker than he already was.

With a groan, Cas grabbed his second pillow and pressed it over his head, as if that would block out his thoughts. It kinda did. He could hear his heart pumping in his ears, and Cas focused on that instead of his thoughts. It was steady and deep and it honestly did help Cas relax. And as he continued to focus on that, he was able to drift off to sleep.

Cas woke up early too. Partially on purpose and partially not. He certainly didn’t want Dean to wake up before him so that anxiousness made him wake up every couple hours anyway. Once it was an acceptable time to actually get up, Cas bundled the dirty clothes and sheets together and stuffed them into a plastic bag he had saved from the store.

Dean was still asleep on the couch, but as Cas moved around the kitchen, he shifted and rolled over. He sat up with a yawn, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his face. Cas almost died when he scented the air sleepily, sure his scent would give away what he did last night, but Dean only yawned again and stretched his arms over his head.

“Morning,” he grunted, voice all gravely from sleep. He kicked off the blankets and stood.

“Good morning,” Cas said, standing by the sink. “Breakfast?”

“Not hungry,” Dean said.

Cas frowned. Dean was always hungry. “We have enough food,” he said. “It’s not like we need to skip meals.”

Dean gave him a careful look, and Cas burned under his gaze, having to look away after the first few seconds. And then Dean shrugged. “Fine,” he said. Was his tone clipped and short or was that sleep? “You want soup or pizza?”

Cas bit his lip. Neither of the choices sounded very good for breakfast. Did Dean do that on purpose? Make it sound like they didn’t have anything to eat? Cas shrugged it off.

“Soup,” he said, turning to the cupboard where they had left the cans. He pulled down one of chicken noodle, just like they had eaten last night. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so many of the same kind.

He turned on the stove and tried to open the can, struggling to pull the tab hard enough to break the seal. He fought with it for several seconds before Dean took it from him.

“Here,” he said. He yawned again as he cracked it open, tearing off the paper covering and then putting it on the stovetop. “Spoon?”

Cas jumped to get him one, watching silently as Dean stirred the soup as it heated. “I think I’m going to do laundry today,” he said just to fill up the silence. “The landlord said something about a laundromat a couple blocks down that I could use and I thought I would go today.”   

“Want me to come with?” Dean offered, bringing a small spoonful of broth to his mouth to taste.

Cas shrugged. “If you wanna,” he said.

Dean nodded, both at the soup and to him. “Okay,” he said. He took the can of soup carefully off the heat and offered it and the spoon to Cas. “Dig in.”

Soup for breakfast wasn’t as bad as Cas figured it would be. He ate half of it quickly before handing it back to Dean so he could eat too. When they finished, Dean rinsed the can out and set it to dry next to the one from last night.

“Get your vest on,” Cas said. “I’ll get changed and we can go.”

Dean nodded and moved back to the couch. Cas watched out of the corner of his eye as Dean folded the blanket he had used during the night and then grabbing his vest from where it sat on the floor next to the couch. He slipped it on and did up all the snaps. Cas quickly retreated back to the bedroom, quickly changing into day clothes and grabbing his bag. He squeezed in a couple other shirts and pants just so that he had a decent about of dirty laundry. By the time he got back to the kitchen, Dean was ready to go too.

Dean wrinkled his nose and sniffed, and Cas flushed hot, wondering if he somehow knew.

“Ready?” he asked, his traitorous voice squeaking up a notch.

“Yup,” Dean said.

Together, they walked out the door. Dean reminded him to lock it after them and Cas quickly obeyed, forgetting that things weren’t the same as home. He already had the laundromat’s address pulled up on his phone as they walked down the apartment building’s stairs.

There was still a group of people out on the front lawn, still around that same burning barrel. Cas vaguely wondered if they ever put the fire out or if it was just perpetually burning. He accidentally starred a bit too long and caught the eye of a particularly rough looking man. He wore a raggedy white tank top and basketball shorts. He also wore a dirty collar with a gleaming metal A. Did that mean he was an alpha?

He wolf whistled at Cas, smirking and wiggling his hips suggestively.

“Sweet piece of omega ass!” he yelled. “I’d rut that any day!”

A couple of the other people looked up too, several also joining in with smirks and grins of their own. They whistled and hooted and made lewd gestures, thrusting their hips in Cas’s direction.

“Ain’t you smellin’ so fine, baby!”

“I’d fuck you ‘til you can’t walk!”

“Hey, sweet cheeks, I’d give you the ride of your life!”

“Take off your shirt. I wanna see your tits!”

Cas flushed and quickly looked at his feet. He picked up his pace, praying and hoping that none of the people would try to follow him. It took him three steps before he realized Dean was no longer at his side. He turned back, heart sinking when he realized Dean was squared off, challenging the alpha that had yelled first.

“Back off,” Dean growled, pushing back his shoulders and puffing out his chest.

“What are you, his trussed up pussy package?” the alpha said with a sneer. “Bet he’s got your cock in a cage and you beggin’ for a taste of his ass, huh?”

“Dean, down!” Cas said, scared that a fight would break out. Dean couldn’t take all of them at once. Cas wouldn’t be able to help him if he got hurt.

“Run back to your bitch,” the alpha said, jerking his chin in Cas’s direction. “Huh, alpha? Deeeeeaan.” He drew the name out, making a kissy face at Dean. “Huh, Dean-o, gonna go running back to your pretty bitch?”

Dean scowled and, before Cas could even shout, took two, quick steps and planted his right fist into the alpha’s face, sending him sprawling on the grass. Immediately, two other men and a woman jumped to their feet as the alpha howled and rolled around, holding his jaw.

“Back the fuck off,” Dean said and spat on the man. He made eye contact with the others who had moved, daring them to try something.

“Fuck you!” the alpha said but didn’t get back up to his feet.

“Stay away from me,” Dean said. “And you can keep your teeth in your mouth.” Then he turned his back and walked back to Cas’s side. “Let’s go,” he said under his breath, not looking back over his shoulder as they walked away.

“Are you hurt?” Cas asked. His stomach wouldn’t hold still and he felt like throwing up. He almost had to jog to keep up with Dean’s long strides.  

Dean gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?” he said. “I did all the punching.”

“I don’t know,” Cas said. He looked over his shoulder, but the people must’ve decided that Dean wasn’t worth the trouble and had gone back to milling around the barrel. “I was scared you were going to get hurt.”

Dean scoffed. “There was only four alphas,” he said. “The rest were betas. They wouldn’t have tried anything.”

“How do you know?!” Cas said. Now that the fear was fading, he was more angry than anything. Dean shouldn’t put himself in danger like that!

“They smelled all talk,” Dean said with a shrug. “Look, I knew what I was doing. If I hadn’t done anything, they would have just gotten worse. You wouldn’t have been able to leave the apartment.”

Cas flushed. So Dean had been standing up for _him_. Dean had been taking care of _him_.

“Now,” Dean said. “Where is this laundromat?”

Cas fumbled with his phone, pulling it out and checking the map. “Just up ahead,” he said. He looked up at the street in front of them. “Actually, just around the corner.”

The laundromat was similar to the apartment building in that they were both dirty, run down, and didn’t look like they would be safe after dark. Still, this was the only place to clean their clothes, so Cas walked bravely through the front doors. He gave Dean coins to get soap and detergent from a vender in the back while he chose a machine and began unloading the clothes and sheets.

It took Cas a couple minutes to figure out which drawers the detergent went in but with Dean’s help, he finally got the thing started on the first cycle. The countdown of sixty minutes flashed on the small screen so it looked like they would be here for a while. Cas looked around for a place to sit.

There were two tables, and one was already taken by an old lady.

She had snow-white hair that curled around her ears and nut-brown skin. She wore flip flops, raggedy jean shorts, and a white t-shirt with a bright green leaf on it. Her shirt hung off her shoulder far enough for Cas to see the pale scar of an old mating bite. She had a roll of paper clamped between her lips that she was smoking and a cloth bag sitting at her feet. She looked up at them, apparently waiting for her own laundry to be finished same as them.

Dean sat down at the second table without giving her a second look, apparently deeming her not a threat. The woman wrinkled her nose at him, apparently disgusted with him.

“Um, hello,” Cas tried, not wanting her angry at them.

“He some fancy medical thing?” the woman asked, still not taking her eyes off Dean. She reached up with one hand to take the paper out of her mouth, with her other hand she gestured at Dean. Well, not her other hand, per se.

Her other arm ended in a stump right after the elbow. She flexed the joint at Dean which made Cas fumble for a moment before he remembered his manners.

“Um yes,” he said. “Dean is my medical alpha. He helps me with different things that I can’t—can’t normally do on my own.”

The woman puffed on her paper, narrowing her eyes at Dean. She jerked her elbow at him again when he ignored her. “Hey, _Puta_ ,” she said. “You a smart alpha then?”

Dean gave her a look then, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, _Puta_ ,” the woman said. “You smart?”

Dean shrugged and nodded and went back to looking at his hands.

The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking back to Cas. “Most alphas are dumb as bricks,” she said. “Why’s he any different?”

“His name is Dean,” Cas said. “And he had some training.”

There was a loud click which made Dean jump, and the woman cackled, pushing herself up from her seat.

“Jumpy as an _ardilla_ ,” she said and laughed to herself as she walked to a washing machine and yanked open the door. “ _Puta ardilla_.”

She set a tattered laundry basket down in front of the machine and propped her joint in her mouth as she started unloaded the wash. When the machine was empty, she dragged the basket back to her table and sat back down with a heaving sigh. She flicked away the last inch of her paper and then scooped a shirt out of the basket.

She clamped one sleeve in her mouth and draped it over her table, making sure it wasn’t wrinkled as she folded in the sleeves. She then flipped up the hem and placed the newly folded shirt off to the side. She picked up the next shirt, repeating the process all over.

Cas watched her with fascination and then realized he was staring. “I’m Cas,” he said, stepping forward. He didn’t offer his hand because he felt like that would be awkward.

“Abuela Astella,” she said. “That’s what people call me.”

“Abuela Astella,” Cas said, hesitantly taking a seat across from her as she continued to fold clothes. He slid his gaze to her bonded mark, pale against her otherwise darker skin. “You’re mated?” he asked.

“Bah!” Abuela Astella spat. “ _Mierda_ , no. Not anymore. Damn _cabrón_ beat me, beat my _niños encantadores_ , and drank like the _diablo_ on Cinco de Mayo. I sing now that he is burning in hell!” She waved her stump at Cas with a scowl that twisted her face into a thunderstorm. She then angrily snatched up the next shirt and folded it messily.

Cas looked to Dean, grateful when he mouthed “omega” at him and nodded at Abuela Astella.

“Oh,” Cas said. “I’m sorry.”

“No point is being sorry now,” Abuela Astella said, slumping her shoulders as the fight left her. “He is gone.” She spat on the tile floor. “I am here, and life goes on.”

Cas watched her fold clothes, clenching the fabric in her teeth and occasionally struggling to flip it the way she needed. He cleared his throat softly. “Do you need help?” he offered.

Abuela Astella rolled her eyes. “Not from you,” she said.

Cas flushed hot. “I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” he said. “I was just offering.”

Abuela Astella snorted and grabbed another shirt. “Keep your offers to yourself,” she said. “Plus, you smell like you’d rather be doing something else than talkin’ to me.”

Cas wrinkled his nose. “That’s not true,” he said.

Abuela Astella raised an eyebrow. “I know a thing or two about scents, _Chico_ ,” she said. “They don’t often lie. I could smell when my bastard mate was sleeping with another damn alpha, I can smell when my _niños encantadores_ have eaten candy out of the pantry, and I can smell that you don’t like being here.”

“Because I don’t like being _here_ ,” Cas said, tapping the table. “Like, _here_ here. I’ve never done my laundry in a place like this.”

Now Abuela Astella paused in her folding, giving first him and then Dean a long look. “You got a story?” she said.

Cas shifted awkwardly, looking at Dean, wondering if he should say anything. Dean was staring out the window though, fidgeting with the zippers on his vest. Cas chewed his lip and looked back to Abuela Astella. He sat straight and pushed back his shoulders. “Maybe,” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Abuela Astella laughed. “You look like a _gatito_ ,” she said. “A poor, lost _gatito_ someone left out in the rain. You have a story? Yes, I believe it.” She grabbed a pair of shorts from her basket, folding it briskly and starting a different pile next to her shirts. “You and your _puta ardilla_ both _. Mierda.”_

“I think we all have stories,” Cas said.

“If that is the truth,” Abuela Astella said. “Then the world is a storybook.” She gave Cas a smile, an honest, genuine smile and the first time she hadn’t looked like she wanted him to leave her alone. “And I think that is a rather nice thought.”

There was another loud click, and Cas looked up, scanning the laundromat. But it was just them. No one else had entered the mat.

“That would be your clothes,” Abuela Astella said, jerking her chin in the direction of the washing machines.

“Oh!” Cas said, jumping to his feet. Dean jumped up too, following his to the machine and helping him pull the clothes out.

They were still wet, so Cas loaded them into a dryer and paid more money. Then he and Dean went back to the tables, and he sat down next to Abuela Astella again.

“So why does your _puta_ need to be all fancy and medical?” Abuella Astella asked.

Cas folded his hands on the table and tried to hold back a grin. “That’s part of my story,” he said. He kind of like being this mysterious person who didn’t talk about anything.

Abuela Astella laughed. “Tell you what,” she said, leaning down to rifle through her bag. She pulled out a silver flask and unscrewed the cap with her teeth, spitting it into her lap. She took a swig and then offered it to Cas. “Drink, and if you want, you can tell me your mysterious story while your clothes finish, yeah?”

Cas smiled and took the flask. He almost spit it out after taking a drink. It burned down the back of his throat and left his eyes watering, and he was coughing as he passed it back to her. Abuela Astella only laughed.

“Strong enough for you, _Chico_?” she said.

Cas nodded and wiped his cheeks. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “I’m good.”

Abuela Astella nodded and went back to folding clothes. Cas fiddled his thumbs and looked at Dean. He was picking at his fingernails, apparently disinterested in his and Abuela Astella’s conversation.

“Are you sure you want to hear it?” he asked.

Abuela Astella shrugged. “You are sitting here for another hour,” she said. “And there is nothing else to do.”

Cas sighed and nodded. He looked out the window, watching a couple cars pass and two birds squabble over a scrap of bread. Then he turned back to Abuela Astella’s wizened old face and her scrawny frame and her dark, twinkling eyes. And then he started at the beginning.

 


	7. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning, I guess? minor-ish graphic description of bodily functions specifically menstruation in a male 
> 
> other than that, enjoy! ^-^

Something was up with Cas.

Dean knew that the moment he woke up. Cas smelled like sex and guilt, but Dean knew better than to ask about it.  Instead, he heated up soup for breakfast and didn’t say anything. Instead, he squared off against an alpha and challenged him in broad daylight. Instead, he had helped Cas do the laundry that stunk of sex and entertained himself while Cas talked with the older omega.

The morning had left Dean reeling.

And he wasn’t sure if he liked it or if he wanted Cas to go back to being his fumble-y, awkward self.

At least now he was back to sitting on the couch, folding the laundry they had washed because Cas had no idea how to. Instead, Cas was rummaging through the apartment, making a list on his phone of everything they needed. Dean kept track of him, occasionally scenting the air to see which room he was in and how he felt.

“We need, like, an entire new bathroom” Cas declared, walking out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. He was typing rapidly into his phone, chewing his lip. “And a whole bunch of cleaning supplies. I never realized how much a house actually needs that kind of stuff.”

Dean hid his smile by wrestling the sheet into a messing square.

“And we need more food too,” Cas said, glaring over at the fridge. “Like, real food. Breakfast stuff and dinner stuff. We can’t just eat soup all the time.”

Dean could argue that point but having a variation in their meals would be nice. So far though, he didn’t mind sharing a can with Cas even though he could feel his stomach grumbling after each unsatisfying meal.

“Clothes is another thing I didn’t think about,” Cas said, this time looking to the bedroom. “I grabbed what I could but it’s not much. Plus you only have two pairs of stuff.” He sighed. “I didn’t realize that having more than two pairs of underwear was a luxury.”

Dean made a point of not thinking about Cas in his underwear.

“What do you think?” Cas suddenly asked. “Do you think I missed anything?”

Dean looked up from his folding and tried to think about what a house needed. He wasn’t sure what everything Cas had written down. “First aid stuff,” he said. “Laundry and cleaning supplies. Pots and pans?”

Cas was typing furiously as soon as he started talking and when he finished he looked up was a smile. “I didn’t have any of that stuff down,” he said.

Dean nodded and returned the smile.

“I figured I only have a limited time on the credit card,” Cas said, holding up the square of plastic. “Before Lucifer or someone cancels it. So I guess we should use it as much as we can before it’s useless.”

“So we’ll be going shopping again today?” Dean asked.

Cas thought for a minute. “Yeah,” he said. “Better to do it sooner than later.”

“What’s the closest store?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed. He typed into his phone for a moment and then groaned. “I don’t want to call a taxi,” he muttered. “We might have to though.”

“Why?” Dean said. “How far away is it?”

Cas turned his phone around and crossed the kitchen in a couple steps so that Dean could read the screen. Dean studied the short blue line, following from their position and down a several streets. He tried to visualize the turns in his mind, comparing it to the trip to the laundromat earlier today. He also tried to imagine how long it would take, not wanting Cas to be outside the apartment as it got dark.

“I think we can do it,” he said. “If we go fast enough. Besides, it’ll be better to get everything we need as fast as possible, so that we have everything we might need.”

Cas chewed his lip and considered it. “Alright,” he said finally. “We’ll try it.”

Dean quickly finished folding the last shirts and pants and leaving them in a pile on the couch before standing and following Cas to the door. They both shoved on their shoes and with that, headed out of the apartment for the second time that day.

The alphas and betas were still loitering in the lawn, tossing trash into their fire and muttering to each other. Some were drinking; Dean recognized the yeast-like smell. The alpha he had punched was still there, a bruise already formed around one eye and down the cheek on the same side.

When they met eyes, Dean straighten his shoulders, puffing out his chest and baring his teeth slightly. The alpha immediately ducked his head, letting it roll to one side to expose his grubby scent glands. Dean wrinkled his nose but was satisfied with the show of submission.

When all the alphas—even the betas—had made moves on Cas that morning, Dean knew had to put a stop to that as quickly as possible. If he didn’t, Cas would be in danger any time he left the apartment alone and probably would have ended up pinned against a wall and fucked by any alpha that happened to be nearby.

Dean staked his claim. He staked it fast, clear, and early and didn’t leave room for anyone to challenge him. The alpha that now showed him submission looked to be the biggest and meanest and with him under his foot, Dean knew they wouldn’t be bothered. Much.

Cas walked with his head down and arms stiffly at his sides, like an omega. Dean almost felt sorry for him. He was the center of attention every time they walked across the lawn and couldn’t smell the arousal and lust that drifted off of everyone as they studied his chest, crotch, and ass.

Dean was fiercely protective. He glared over Cas’s shoulder at anyone who dared to stare too long and that was enough to deter everyone.

“At least the weather is nice,” Cas said as soon as they were a block away from the apartment buildings. He finally loosened up and was staring up at the sky and the surrounding houses. “Good for walking.”

“Yeah,” Dean said absentmindedly. He was keeping his eyes and nose out for any suspicious alphas, not really paying attention to the weather.

“We should get something to eat too,” Cas said. “Something special. Like eating out.”

“What are you thinking?” Dean asked.

Cas rubbed the back of his head embarrassed. “I . . . . I don’t know very many cheap places,” he said. “Gabe and I . . . . we eat expensively.” His cheeks were bright red by the time he stopped talking, and he had gone back to staring at his feet.

“Well,” Dean said. “There’s always cheap burger places. Those would be super easy. We could get our food pretty fast and either eat it there or take it back to the apartment if we want.”

Cas perked up at that, smelling glad for the suggestion. “Okay,” he said. “We can go shopping and then get burgers. That sounds like a good plan.”  

They got to the store successfully without running into any other alphas or betas thankfully. Cas’s scent changed from borderline nervous to relieved as soon as they crossed the entryway to the store. Under his instruction, Dean grabbed a cart and they walked further into the store.

It was much bigger than the grocery market that Cas had sent Dean to before. It was huge, first of all, with towering ceilings and bright lights. Half of the store was stocked with shelves of food and the other half was racks of clothes and aisles of home supplies. Dean was overwhelmed for a moment, but Cas pressed forward without flinching.

They started with food, Cas directing Dean to that half of the store and leading the way. He stared down at his phone for the most part, glancing up enough to point Dean in the right direction. He grabbed the different things they needed off the shelf, going from cleaning supplies to more cans of soup to other, fresher things like fruit, produce, and bags of bread and bagels. Dean loved looking at all the bright packages and smelling all of the food. Cas even let him pick out a couple items for himself, bags of chips and boxes of dehydrated mashed potatoes.

After the cart was half full with groceries, they made their way over to the other aisles of cleaning supplies and other household items. Cas put soap and washcloths, towels and a squeegee mop, and paper towels and toilet paper into the cart. Dish soap, hand soap, and more containers of shampoo were added as well. He filled the other half of the cart with things that the apartment would need beside food.

And then they made their way over to the clothes.

The omega section of the store was huge with nearly dozens of racks and tables. Off in one corner, near the changing area strictly labelled “for OMEGA and BETA use only” was a couple racks labeled as “Alpha.”

Cas didn’t seem to notice the separation. He only started with a rack of sweatpants, sorting through them until he could pairs large enough for Dean to wear. He unhooked several hangers at once and laid them over the top of everything else in the cart.

“That should be good for now,” he said. “Come on, let’s find shirts.”

He ended up finding a selection of sweaters and thin t-shirts for Dean to wear, all omegian. He hadn’t even looked in the direction of the racks for alphas, and Dean was starting to wonder if he should say anything, to direct Cas’s attention where it actually should be.

“I didn’t even think about socks and underwear!” Cas said suddenly before Dean could even open his mouth.

Dean felt his cheeks go hot and he quickly looked down at the floor, but he dutifully pushed the cart after Cas, following him to an aisle with plastic packages of undergarments.

The bras were all designed for utility rather than aesthetic, made of muted fabrics ranging from tan to white to grey to black. They all latched in the front, Dean noticed, for ease of use probably. The underwear came in several different styles from boxers to briefs to panties to ones missing the back panel, with only straps that would go around the thighs.

Dean did his best not to stare.

Cas was already holding two packages, debating over which ones to get. He was chewing his lip, smelling deep in thought, distracted.

“Do you think I should go for the cheaper ones or the more comfortable ones?” he asked, holding the packages for Dean to review.

They were both boxer brief style in muted grey. One proudly advertised that it was “100% Real Cotton!” but the other was labelled with a bright orange sticker of “50% OFF!” Both featured middle aged omega models showing off how well the style fit.

“Well,” Dean said carefully, wondering why Cas needed his opinion on this. “I guess the more comfortable ones. Those would be nicer.”

Cas nodded and put the package in the cart. He turned back to the rack and his scent changed to slightly embarrassed. “I’m not sure what size you are,” he said. “So, um, you wanna just choose one that you think will fit?”

Dean also had no idea what size he was, but Cas clearly didn’t want to be the one to choose so Dean stepped forward and scanned the packages. Finally he selected a package of black boxers that were labeled as “Day-2-Day AlphaWear” and had a young man shyly peeking up at the camera while on his knees, showing how versatile the underwear was. Dean just crossed his fingers they were the right size and added them to the cart after Cas’s.

A couple of packages of socks followed that, and then they went back to the regular clothing racks where Cas added a couple other pairs of pants and shirts, a couple sizes smaller than the ones before so they were probably for himself. Finally, he stepped back and surveyed the contents of their cart.

“I think that’s good,” he said and looked down at his phone. “That’s everything I had on my list at least. Do you think we missed anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Dean said, mentally combing through all the items in the carts. Clothes, food, utilities. “Medicine?” he suggested. “Like band aids and stuff?”

“Oh, good idea!” Cas said. “I think I saw that aisle back towards the cleaning stuff.”

He led the way back out of the clothing section and towards the utilities section. He turned into the aisle and Dean followed, surveying the different bottles and containers. It all smelled clinical, too much like sick-hurt to make Dean comfortable. He shuffled from foot to foot as Cas picked up the different bottles, rattling them as he did, reading the labels and only choosing one or two to put in the cart.

He chewed his lip as he scanned the shelves, picking out gummies and more hard pills. He returned some and others he added to the cart. Dean turned away from the pill section, hating the way it made his stomach crawl. So he studied the other side of the aisle, trying to decide what the plastic packages that lined the shelves were.

“Moon Time!” one package read. “Athletics! For the omega on the Go!”

Dean frowned, still not really understanding what they were for. They were made for omegas, obviously, that much he could see.

“What’s that?” Cas said, stepping to his side. His scent flushed with embarrassment, but he quickly grabbed one of the packages, a larger one, and shoved it under their pile of clothes.

“What is it?” Dean asked, hurrying to push the cart as Cas rushed out of the aisle.

“Nothing,” Cas said. “Come on, we can check out now.”

Dean kind of still wanted to know what the things were. Why was Cas so embarrassed? It couldn’t be that bad. But Cas was heading dutifully towards the check-out stations without looking back at Dean, and Dean was left with no choice but to follow.

“And how are you today?” the check-out omega asked as Dean pushed the cart up to the conveyor belt Cas choose. He was talking to Cas, so Dean ducked his head and started unloading everything from the cart.

“Good,” Cas said.

“I hope you found everything okay,” the omega said, starting to swipe all the items.

“We did,” Cas said, busying himself with his wallet and pulling out the credit card.

It took several minutes to scan through everything. Dean winced as the numbers on the screen went up and up and up. Cas didn’t give it a second look, and he didn’t even smell nervous. He waited patiently with the credit card dangling between two fingers, looking almost bored with the entire thing.

When the omega offered a hand, Cas passed the card over, waving off the receipt. He helped Dean load all the bags back into their cart then they were through the check-out successfully. The credit card had worked. Cas slipped it casually back into his pocket as they walked out of the store.

Cas showed Dean where he could sit on an outside bench and parked the cart next to him as well before pulling out his phone, walking a couple steps away as he dialed. It was just to call a taxi though.

“We can’t walked back when we have all of this,” Cas said as he returned to Dean’s side. “And if the card still works we can just pay with that.”

“Alright,” Dean said, rearranging the bags so that Cas had a place to sit down next to him.

They waited in silence, watching other customers walk in and out of the department store, omegas and betas and alphas on leashes. Sometimes, unpresented kits would bounce up to Cas as ask to pet Dean on the head before their mothers would rush over an apologize and hastily explain that Dean's vest meant he was working and couldn't be bothered. It was pretty awkward all together, and Dean didn't really like the way the mothers would talk about him as if he wasn't there. Thankfully, the taxi arrived quickly. They loaded everything into the trunk and were back to their apartment in no time.

They unpacked all the food first, filling the cupboards and refrigerator to bursting. Cas filled the bathroom with towels, wash cloths, and a shower curtain along with all the soaps and cleaning supplies. Dean tore the tags off all the clothes and either folded them into the drawers or hung them in the closet. He tucked the packages of underwear away without opening them.

When they were finished, the place looked much more like home. It no longer smelled musty and stale, and with a little bit of colored, it brightened up a lot. Dean collapsed on the couch, letting himself sprawl out, tired after walking and carrying and hauling stuff around all day. He yawned and scented idly for Cas, just to make sure he was okay.

Their scents were starting to fill up the apartment, going stale over time but still marking the place as their own. Dean picked through the older scents of Cas being happy and nervous and scared until the sharp scent of fermented grapes met his nose.

Dean snapped upright with a rush of panic.

What kind of scent was that?! He had never smelled that before and it didn’t smell good. It prickled in the back of his throat, making him want to cough and at the same time, it made his chest and stomach warm and tingly. He felt a stirring between his legs.

Dean jumped to his feet.

“Cas?” he called. “Cas!”

He rushed into the bedroom, scared of what he might find.

Cas was doubled over the mattress, a pillow fisted in one hand and his face contorted in pain. He was breathing shallowly through clenched teeth. His scent spiked with pain and that fermented grape-y smell, and Dean felt his stomach twist. He rushed forward without thinking, grabbing Cas’s arm and intending to pull him up, but Cas shoved him away.

“No,” he grunted out. “Don’t touch me.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, immediately pulling away, scared he had done something wrong.

Cas was still gasping in pain, doubled over. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Go back to the living room, I’m—ah!”

He collapsed completely on the bed and the scent of pain reached a feverish pitch, sending Dean’s mind spinning and the hair on the back of his neck on end. His stomach flip flopped, and that’s when Dean noticed the wet spot growing on the back of Cas’s pants.

Oh shit.

Oh _Shit_.

Dean pulled back immediately, his stomach sinking lower. That, that explained so much. Especially why he was half hard and why Cas sprawled helpless on the bed was quickly burning itself into his mind. Dean swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and took another step back, looking at his feet instead.

Heat.

_Omega_ heat.

Cas's body was quite literally calling out to be pinned down and bred. And Dean's body, as the alpha, was responding to that call. Dean immediately pressed a hand to his crotch, shoving down his slowly growing erection and panting heavily through his mouth.

He vaguely recalled school and learning about different bodies in biology class. He'd gotten The Talk from his mother on his eleventh birthday. She had just trying to prepare him in case he presented omegian.

Sharp, mind numbing cramps would be cutting their way through Cas's gut, the lining of his uterine wall shedding itself in preparation for another egg. Not only would his body be dumping the blood and lining out of the only hole available but it would also be slicking up his channel in preparation for a hard breeding session as soon as the new egg was in place. The next two hours would be messy and disgusting and bloody. After that, the cramps would worsen, the pain forcing Cas to be bedridden until his body realized there would be no breeding and slowly calm down.

It would be four or five days of pain, if Dean remembered correctly.

If an alpha bred him, it would be one or two days, if Dean remembered correctly.

“Get out!” Cas groaned, unable to actually look up at Dean.

Dean gulped and obeyed, hurrying out of the room and back to his place on the couch. He curled up on the cushions, hugging his knees to his chest and cupping a hand over his nose. His heart was thudding in his chest, and Dean was shaky with fear.

Sure he'd been able to pull himself back now, but this was just the beginning. Right now, Cas smelled like pain and blood and while that made Dean uneasy, it didn't want to make him fuck Cas. But after the blood, Cas's body would be dumping omegian hormones into him, and then what would Dean do?  

There was a clatter and then a crash from the bathroom. A cry of pain and a thud followed quickly after.

Dean jumped to his feet and hurried to the door, locking it securely and even hooking the small chain before stepping back. He took a steadying breath through his mouth and turned back to the bathroom, stealing himself for what he was going to see.

Cas was sprawled in the bathtub, one knee hooked up over the edge. He was leaning back against the tiles, face flushed. He was sweating too, a thin sheen covering his entire body. His pants were around his thighs, as if he had been trying to undress before collapsing.

Dean gagged at the scent of fear and pain, covering his nose as he stepped into the room. Cas stirred in the tub, cracking open his eyes just enough so he could acknowledge Dean’s presence and groaning.

“Dean,” he said, voice breathy and weak. “Oh, _Dean_.”

A puddle of blood was collecting under his ass, soaking into the fabric of his pants where he didn’t pull them down far enough. He had one fist shoved against his stomach, digging his knuckles in hard. With his other hand he was clutching the edge of the tub in a white-knuckled grip.

Dean rushed forward, gently pulling Cas’s pants down further so they wouldn’t get stained. He kept his gaze down and respectfully lowered. His throat was already dry and he couldn’t trust himself to look. Cas’s skin was clammy and cold beneath his fingers, and he didn’t even react as his pants and underwear slid off his ankles.

“Easy, easy,” Dean coaxed. He balled the clothes up and tossed them to the other side of the room. They didn’t smell good anyway. He stood and unhooked the shower head, pulling the cord out so that it stretched down enough so Cas could reach. He turned the water on, adjusting it so that it wasn’t too hot or cold.

When the spray hit Cas’s hips, he cried out, throwing his head back. He grabbed for Dean, wrapping a hand around his wrist and squeezing hard.

The water ran pink down the drain. Dean kept the shower head steady and looked away, letting Cas squeeze his arm like a stress ball as he bucked his hips and moaned like a porn star. He didn’t smell like one, at least, not yet. He smelled like pain and blood and fear, everything that turned Dean off. He was soft, to his relief, and not even the sight of Cas’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, his chest straining against his shirt with ever heaving breath, and his legs thrown wide open was enough to change that.

At least, not yet.

 


	8. Other Problems (that are fine of course)

Sam whined as he stood on shaky feet, hating that he had to do this. He didn’t even want to get out of bed, but Gabe refused to join him, saying something about how he needed a bath. Now, he had coaxed Sam out of the bed and left him in the middle of the room, alone.

Sam didn’t like it.

He could hear the water running in the bathroom, somewhere across the room. He could smell Gabe in the bathroom too, he just didn’t know how to get there. He considered finding his way back to the bed, but Gabe didn’t want him in the bed. So he was stuck in the middle of the room. Lost.

The water turned off, and Sam perked up. He twisted, scenting for Gabe.

“I’m here, Sam,” Gabe said, and Sam turned in his direction, taking a hesitant step forward.

Sam stopped, scared of bumping into something. He frowned and scented the air. “Mate,” he said, hoping that Gabe would be nice enough to step forward and help him.

And just like that, Gabe was taking his hand, guiding him gently toward the bathroom. Sam could feel the change from carpet to tile under his bare feet and suddenly all sounds were more echo-y than before. Gabe sat him down on the toilet and took his hands, starting to undo the straps.

“You’re not going to do what you did last time, will you?” Gabe ask.

Try and claw his eyes out so he wouldn’t have to see? Sam shook his head and licked his lips.

“Good,” he said. “I'll be good.”

Gabe sighed and brushed a hand across his cheek. Sam leaned into the touch. “You're always good,” Gabe said.

Sam purred with happiness, his chest going hot and warm. He preened under Gabe's attention, letting him slip off the gloves and then standing to let him pull down the shorts. He froze as Gabe unlocked the cage around his knot, waiting until the metal fell away before he breathed. He scented the air eagerly, picking up on Gabe's tiredness. Sam winced, making a note not to bother his mate so much. Gabe shouldn't be tired or worn out. That meant Sam was being a bad mate.  

“Alright, time to get in the tub,” Gabe said, taking one of Sam's hands and lacing their fingers.

The joints in his hands ached from being curled up so long, but Sam did his best to squeeze Gabe's hand back. He stood eagerly, feeling around for the edge of the tub with his free hand and Gabe coaxed him forward.

The water was sudsy and warm, and Sam sank gratefully beneath the surface. It stung slightly against his cuts but felt so good against his sore muscles. Sam sighed with relief and did his best to hunch over to get as far under the water as possible.

He flinched at the wash cloth on his back but then relaxed under Gabe's touch, letting his mate wash and groom him. He hissed when the cloth met his mating bite, curling against the touch and whimpering. Oh, that _hurt_. He didn't like it.

Gabe made a noise of disgust under his breath. “Infected,” he murmured. “Shit, I should have washed this sooner.”

He pressed the cloth gently against the area, sponging it clean before moving onto the rest of Sam's back.

“At least these are healing,” he said.

Sam purred with pride.

“The soap might sting,” Gabe warned and when the cloth hit his cuts this time, Sam winced.

The sting was much more prominent and when Gabe washed his mating bite, he had to clench his teeth to avoid crying out. Gabe moved as quickly as he could and finished fast. Sam sighed in contentment as Gabe rinsed his entire back and shoulders with cupfuls of warm water.

“Shampoo,” Gabe said.

He lathered up the stuff into Sam's hair, massaging his scalp and scratching behind his ears. Now that felt nice. Sam could practically feel the dirt and grime washing away. And Gabe was thorough, scrubbing and rinsing the shampoo away not once but twice. Sam felt privileged and made a point of not lifting his hands from his lap, not wanting to give Gabe the wrong impression. After his hair was clean, Gabe washed his hands, straightening each finger and massaging the muscles and joints. That hurt at first before his fingers seemed to remember that they could straighten naturally. Same flexed his hands as the feeling returned, liking the mobility.

“I've gotta wash your butt,” Gabe said softly.

Sam froze as the cloth dipped lower but he didn’t protest. Not even when Gabe moved from back to front. He gritted his teeth, proud of himself for not reacting as his mate took care of him.

Wait, no. He shouldn’t be proud of that. His mate should never have to take care of him. He hung his head in shame, letting Gabe move his arms around to he could finish washing him completely. Sam just sat obediently, not moving and not lifting his head.

“Alright,” Gabe said. If he noticed that Sam had stopped reacting, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned, and Sam heard the rustle of fabric. “Time to get out.”

Sam gratefully stood, feeling around until Gabe wrapped a towel around his shoulders. And then another one went around his waist. Gabe helped him step over the side of the tub and sat him on the toilet again. He left Sam there, moving to another part of the bathroom and rummaging around in search of something.

Sam scented him carefully, smelling mostly soap but able to pick out Gabe’s care and focus, like chocolate cake. Sam smiled to himself and savored the scent.

“Open your mouth,” Gabe said, tapping his chin.

Sam immediately obeyed, dropping his jaw and sticking out his tongue.

“Tongue in,” Gabe corrected, and Sam pulled it back in.

Gabe brushed his teeth, gently and carefully in a way that Sam wasn’t used to. At the training facility, when it was time to get clean, Sam was usually sprayed down. The betas and omegas seemed to want to touch him as little as possible. They used long handled brushes to scrub his skin until it was pink and stinging, using squares of soap for his hair. Their glove-covered hands would grip his chin and then the toothbrush would be shoved into his mouth. They would roughly scrub both his teeth and tongue, often jabbing down the back of his throat. To rinse, they would spray his face and allow him to spit into the drain.

Gabe was gentle, his fingers just barely holding him in place. His smell narrowed with his focus as he scrubbed Sam’s teeth, being overly careful to clean just his teeth and not his gums, the roof of his mouth, or down the back of his throat. He handed him a cup of water to gargle and spit out before repeating the process all over again.

He rinsed the toothbrush in the sink and rummaged around again. This time, when he returned to Sam’s side, he pulled a comb through his hair, working it gently through the tangles.

Again, it was a sensation that was foreign to Sam. He leaned into the touch, so used to either never having the luxury, using his own fingers, or having a hard bristle brush yanked harshly through his hair. Gabe combed his hair away from his forehead and patted it dry with the towel on his shoulders before setting it aside.

“Ready to get dressed?” he asked.

Sam shivered at the thought of fabric dragging on the cuts of his shoulders but nodded obediently. Gabe helped him stand and guided him back out into the bedroom. He took the towels from Sam’s shoulders and waist and moved around the room. Sam hugged himself, chilled by the water and cool air.

The first thing to go on was the cage around his knot. Sam didn’t protest. He kind of liked it. It meant Gabe didn’t want to play with him and Sam wouldn’t have to do anything. Instead of shorts, Sam was put into a pair of soft sweatpants which took a little bit of struggling and he almost fell over.

“If I don’t put the mittens back on, will you be good?” Gabe asked.

Sam nodded quickly. He liked being able to touch Gabe back when Gabe touched him.

“Could you open your eyes?” Gabe asked next.

Sam started shivering. He didn’t want to disobey his mate. He didn’t want to make Gabe angry. He shivered and hugged himself and whined. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted to beg Gabe not to make him.  

“Hey, hey,” Gabe said, quickly taking his hands. “You don’t have to. I was just—I was just asking.”

Sam sighed in relief and stepped closer to Gabe, ducking down so he could nuzzle against his scent glands, grooming them until Gabe’s scent changed from sadness to happiness. Sam purred, proud of himself.

“You’re not gonna keep your eyes closed forever, are you?” Gabe murmured, hiding his face in Sam’s chest.

Sam didn’t know. He _honestly_ didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Gabe’s hands clenched in his shirt at the words and he heaved a huge sigh. “That’s not possible,” he said. “I don’t think it is.”

Sam sighed softly, wanting to go to the bed and not stand there for too long. He just didn’t know which direction to tug Gabe in, so he stood there, curled around his mate and waiting for him to make the decision to return to bed.

“Bed?” Gabe asked, as if reading his mind.

Sam smiled. “Yes, mate,” he said.

Gabe led the way back to the bed and Sam gratefully crawled under the sheets. The mattress dipped as Gabe climbed in next to him, and Sam turned around, settling down, and then reaching out for Gabe. They snuggled together, Gabe tilting his head and pulling down his shirt enough to let Sam suckle at the scent glands.

They laid in silence, neither falling asleep but neither wanting to move. Gabe’s scent mellowed out to contentment and care and that tasted like honey roasted peanuts. Sam purred.

“You’ll try to get better, right?” Gabe finally asked.

Sam made a noise of confusion, not understanding the question.

“Like, you _want_ to get better, right?” Gabe said.

Sam purred. Silly mate. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Sam,” Gabe said, sounding broken.

Sam hummed and pulled away from Gabe’s scent glands long enough to kiss him on the jaw. He slowly looped his arms around Gabe, not wanting to scare him, and pulled him close to his chest. He gently tucked Gabe’s head next to his chest, so he could hear his steady heartbeat.

“Fine,” Sam repeated with a purr.

Gabe laid a hand flat on his chest, not to push him away, probably to feel better. He sighed and relaxed in Sam’s grip. “Fine,” he repeated. “Okay. Okay.”

Sam purred with pride. Finally his mate was getting it. What a good mate. Gabe was a good mate. Sam loved him. And Sam was fine.

 


	9. Going Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more descriptions of Cas's heat and how it affects Dean, that's all ^-^

Cas passed out somewhere around a couple hours after the first show of blood. His eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped limp. Thankfully, his body continued the natural process of ridding itself of blood and chunks of dark red uterine lining.

Dean kept the water steady, washing it all away. He also held Cas’s limp hand, gently massaging it and hoping that Cas would move and squeeze him back.

He didn’t.

As Dean sat there, washing away the last of the blood, Cas's scent began to slowly change from pain to comfort and then hot and sweet. Dean turned the water away for a moment, gulping as Cas’s hole pushed out a glob of slick. Quickly, he washed it away and didn’t look again.

“Hey, Cas, you gotta wake up,” he murmured. “I don’t think you can sit in the tub for five days.”

Cas didn’t even respond. Even when Dean nudged his shoulder, he only rocked with the movement and his head flopped to the other side. Dean clenched his teeth and looked at the bathroom around him, wondering what he was supposed to do now.

Dean shut the water off and re-hooked the shower head. He stood and grabbed a towel off the sink. It was one of the new ones that still had the tags hanging off one corner. He ripped them off with his teeth and moved back to the tub.

He hoisted Cas up from his armpits, letting him fall against his shoulder. He draped the towel over his lap and, in one clumsy movement, hoisted him up out of the tub.

Dean grunted as he tried to get a good grip on Cas’s wet body, hating the way his dick took interest. He kept the towel carefully between them and carried Cas out of the bathroom to the bedroom. He placed him carefully on the mattress, folding the towel around Cas’s waist and tucking it so that it wouldn’t fall down before stepping back.

Dean tried to think of what he had to do. He tried to think of how he would take care of Zoey. He scowled and shook his head. No, no, that wouldn’t work. Zoey was an alpha. Cas was omega. Cas was experiencing something only an omega could experience and treating him like Zoey—treating him like an alpha—wouldn’t be helpful now.

Dean needed to think of something more.

He hurried back to the kitchen and filled a glass with water. He set that aside and took a pot of soup out of the cupboard, pouring it into their new pot and setting it to heat up on the stove top. He took the water back to the bedroom, crouching next to the mattress.

“Cas,” he tried, gently nudging his shoulder as he tried to wake him. “Cas, wake up.”

He didn’t even get a response and Dean noticed that the towel was already starting to soak through. With a sigh, Dean left the water on the ground and went to get more towels.

He stuffed them under Cas’s hips and then picked up the water again, bringing it to Cas’s lips in an effort to get him to drink. He tipped some into his mouth, messaging his throat to get him to swallow. To Dean’s relief, he did, and Dean kept it up until half the glass was empty.

By that time, Cas was starting to stir as well, mumbling in his sleep, wincing and twitching his hands.

“Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas groaned and arched his back off the mattress. His hands were immediately at his waist, pushing away the towels and grabbing at himself.

“Hey! Cas, stop it!” Dean said, grabbing Cas’s wrists and pulling his hands away.

Cas whined and arched into his touch, eyes snapping open. They were glassy blue, pupils blown wide, searching but unseeing.

“Oh, alpha,” he moaned, legs falling open. He humped his hips in the air as if he were begging Dean to touch him. “I—I need you.”

Dean was hard. Harder than he’d ever been before. He was trying to ignore it but it was getting worse and worse.

“C-Cas,” Dean said. “There’s—there’s water here. I—I gotta go.”

He jumped to his feet and hurried out of the bedroom. There was no door to shut behind him so Dean retreated to the kitchen and then even further to the living room. His hand was down his pants before he even realized what he was doing.

His knot was hot and hard in his hand and he squeezed it tight, gasping at the sensation. _God_ , it had been forever since he felt anything. He stroked himself quickly, unable to stop his mind from wandering back to Cas one room over.

He imagined Cas sprawled out underneath him, whimpering for stimulation. Dean would tease him with soft touches, waiting until Cas was absolutely _dripping_ for him before actually fucking into him. And Cas would groan and writhe beneath him, fucking back onto him, and they would move together. Cas would be eager and pliant in the throes of his heat. Dean could do anything.

He would kiss and caress Cas, groom him as he waited out his knot. And then he would be ready to go for another round. And Cas would be ready too. Dean would help him through his heat and through the pain. He wouldn't leave Cas to suffer alone.

Dean gasped as his knot slid into his fist and he squeezed it, mimicking how a hole might milk it. He came into his hand, spilling onto the floor with a groan. He didn't move for several minutes as he massaged his knot, working himself all the way through the orgasm. It was a glorious, glorious feeling, one that Dean had forgotten about until now. He eased his sticky hand off his knot, watching his dick go limp but continue to twitch as the scent of Cas filled the apartment.  

There were hisses and pops as the soup on the stove bubbled over. Dean had forgotten about it until now. Quickly, he rushed to the kitchen, tucking himself back into his pants on the way. He turned the heat off with his least dirty hand and then moved to the sink to clean himself up. He poured the soup into a bowl they had gotten from the store, setting it aside to cool off. He grabbed a washcloth from the pile by the sink, dunked it under the stream of cold water, and then returned to the living room. He dropped to his knees to clean up his mess.

By the time he was done, the soup had cooled off to a semi-manageable temperature, so Dean grabbed the bowl along with a spoon and walked back to the bedroom.

Cas was humping the pillows.

Dean got a full, unobstructed view of his ass and bare thighs wrapped around one of the new pillows, muscles flexing and relaxing. Cas was moaning too, thrusting against the pillow like it was the last thing alive, panting through an open mouth. His skin glistened with both slick and sweat, and he didn’t even react to Dean.

The smell of omegian heat was thick in the air and it made Dean’s head spin. He had to actually pause and gasp through his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. But even then, what he couldn’t see he could still _smell_. And fuck did Cas smell good.

The bowl of soup fell from his hand, and Dean hissed, jumping back as the hot broth spilled over his feet. That jarred him out of his thoughts and he quickly retreated back to the living room, burying his head in the pillows and trying to forget Cas’s smell. The couch smelled like cigarette smoke and vomit, so that helped.

Fuck. He couldn’t do this for four or five days. He couldn’t survive. And Cas couldn’t go four or five days without food or water, not in the state he was in.

Vitamins! Dean remembered Cas putting vitamins in the cart when they had gone shopping. If Dean could get Cas to eat some of those, then perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad.

Dean slipped back into the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet and pulling down all the bottles. He scanned all the labels quickly until he found the one labeled “Omega Supplements.” They were hard pills which could be dissolved in water which would make getting them inside Cas even easier. Dean didn’t know how many was enough to he cracked the bottle open and shook three out into his hand. He rolled them around, debating if that was too much or enough.

Then he decided that Cas would probably need all the nutrients he could get and put the bottle back on the shelf, carrying the three pills out into the kitchen. He set the pills on the counter and grabbed a new cup of water. Using the bottom of an empty glass, he smashed the pills as best he could until they were a fine enough powder that he could stir in. They dissolved after a couple minutes of stirring and Dean was left with another problem.

How did he get it to Cas?

The smell was already starting to take over the apartment but it was strongest in the bedroom. Dean couldn't go in there with no protection without his thoughts spinning out of control and staring too long at Cas. He needed to do something.

He took a sheet from the roll of paper towels they had bought and ripped two strips, balling them up and sticking them in his nose. He had to pant through his mouth and everything smelled strongly of paper, but it was worth a shot.

Dean grabbed the water and tiptoed back towards the bedroom.

“Cas?” he called softly, peeking into the room.

Cas was still humping the pillows, the towels beneath his knees soaked and dark with slick. He was groaning and moaning as he moved, eyes squeezed shut. Occasionally, every couple thrusts, he would pause and gasp. It was at those times when he would clutch at his stomach, his groans turning to grunts of pain.

“Cas,” Dean said, risking a step into the room. “I have some water you should drink.”

He had to step over the puddle of rapidly cooling soup and around the mess of sheets that Cas had kicked off the bed. The glass he had left before had been knocked over, spilled across the floor as well. Cas didn’t even react to his presence until Dean was standing right next to him.

His eyes fluttered opened as he recovered from the most recent cramp and he smiled tiredly up at Dean. He flopped limp on the pillows, pushing his ass in the air.

“Hurts,” he mumbled into the mattress. “Oh, Dean, it _hurts_.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said even though he didn’t know. Maybe he should have put painkillers in the water as well. At least Cas’s smell wasn’t completely messing him up. He crouched down, still not trusting himself to touch Cas so he offered the glass of water instead. “You gotta drink this though.”

Cas groaned and shook his head. “ _Hurts_ ,” he repeated. “Hurts, hurts, hurts.”

Dean should definitely get painkillers after this. “Drink,” he said, offering the glass again. “And I’ll get you something that will help with the pain.”

Cas still ignored him, choosing to chew on his pillow instead, squeezing his eyes shut and he clutched at his stomach.

Dean sighed and realized he would have to do this the hard way. He shuffled forward and gently took Cas’s jaw in one hand. Cas leaned into his touch at least, not protesting against the contact. Dean squeezed his cheeks gently until his mouth dropped open.

“You gotta drink and swallow, okay?” he warned before pouring a small bit into Cas’s mouth.

Cas sputtered, eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again. He swallowed by himself at least, not needing Dean’s help for that. Encouraged by that response, Dean poured more water into Cas’s mouth, repeating the process until it was all gone.

“Good job,” Dean said, glad that it had been easier than he had expected.

Cas purred at the praise, rolling onto his back and presenting his scent glands to Dean. His legs fell open as well, but Dean ignored that offering.

“I’m going to go get you something for the pain,” he said, quickly standing and maneuvering his way back out of the bedroom.

He had to re-search through the bathroom cupboard, rereading all the labels on all the bottles. He did end up finding a painkiller that warned that it would make the user drowsy. You weren’t supposed to operate heavy machinery while on it, but Dean figured Cas wouldn’t be leaving the apartment any time soon anyway. He measured out a dose of it, watching the lines carefully so that he wouldn’t overdose Cas.

When he made his way back to the bedroom, Cas had three fingers stuffed up his hole, humping into his hand with his head thrown back.

Dean quickly stepped around the mess. The sooner the medicine was in Cas, the sooner he would be asleep and the sooner Dean could barricade himself in the living room.

“Hey, Cas,” he said, trying to draw his attention without staring too much. “I got you something to make you feel better.”

Cas whimpered and opened his eyes but didn’t take his fingers away from his hole. His eyes were cloudy and vacant. He was clearly not all there.

“Here,” Dean said, crouching down at the spot where he had been before. “Swallow this for me.”

Same as before, Dean tipped the medicine into Cas’s mouth, making sure he swallowed before pulling away. He left Cas with his fingers in his hole, sleepily pumping them in and out. Even as Dean watched, Cas yawned and his head dropped to the side. His hand went limp and he stopped moving completely. His breathing leveled out and he was finally, _finally_ asleep.

Dean sighed in relief and quickly left the room, stopping by the sink to rip the paper towel out of his nose. He took in a breath of fresh air and stared down at his hands.

He was hard again.

Despite his precautions, apparently he wasn’t immune to Cas’s scent. Dean closed his eyes, already breathing the traces of Cas’s scent that had leaked out of the room. He groaned as he dipped a hand into his pants, unable to pull himself back.

He knotted his fist right there in kitchen, spilling cum on the floor and panting in delirious wonderful relief.

Dean slumped back against the counter, trying to catch his breath. It wasn't that he was worn out or too tired to go on. Quite the opposite. Even as he breathed in, catching scents of Cas every time, he was already recovering.

Shit, shit, _fuck_. Dean couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go _five days_ like this. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off himself. He had to take care of Cas and all he could think about was the fact that in a couple minutes, he would be milking his knot again. God, that would feel so good!

Dean groaned, sinking to the floor of the kitchen, tilting his head back to rest against the cheap wood of the cupboards.

Now that he wasn’t moving, he could hear the commotion outside, the passing cars and loud conversations. Cas’s scent was getting stronger by the moment, but Dean didn’t dare leave the apartment. He couldn’t leave Cas. Who knew what kind of alpha could wander in without Dean’s supervision?  Dean couldn’t leave.

He panted through his mouth, trying to avoid breathing through his nose as little as possible. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t leave. Couldn’t bare it.

His hands were on his dick before he even knew what he was doing. He couldn’t _stop_. Damn. Dean was delirious.

And he didn’t remember much after that.

 


	10. I Love You

When Cas woke up, he wasn’t completely aware of where he was. Then he slowly became aware of the wetness between his thighs and the cramps in his stomach. He groaned and curled in on himself. And then he was aware of the fact that he was naked from the bottom down, laying on a mess of towels.

And there was soup congealed on the floor by the door of the bedroom.

His _heat_.

Cas sat straight up and winced as the movement made him cramp. His heat had come. He remembered that discomfort while he and Dean had been shopping. He remembered ignoring it. He remembered the cramps while he had been putting things away in the bedroom. After that—well, after that he couldn’t remember. That was scary, and Cas shuddered.

He knew he couldn't sit here. So, ignoring the pain in his lower stomach, Cas rolled to his feet. He couldn't bring himself to care about his nakedness as he picked his way through the mess of the bedroom, stepping over the soup in the doorway and across the hall into the bathroom.

Through the haze of pain and sluggishness, Cas fumbled with the spout in the shower and managed to turn on the water. He grimaced at the feeling of a glob of slick pushing its way out of his hole. He stepped quickly under the spray of water, letting it wash away the grime on his body. Cas had to brace himself on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut through the worst of the cramps.

He used the bare minimum of soap, counting more on the water to wash away the most of the grime. He was too tired to put any more effort in.

When it was time to climb out, he realized that all the towels were back in his room and he was stuck with another dilemma. How was he supposed to get back to his room without leaking a mess down his thighs?

With a groan and a sigh, Cas left the water running and put one foot outside the tub. He was able to cross the distance between the shower and the sink easily, leaning down to the cupboard.

He yanked out the pads he had bought yesterday—yesterday? It had been embarrassing to add them to the cart with Dean watching but now Cas was glad he did. He ripped the package open with his teeth, pulled out one, and ripped it open. He unfolded it and pressed it between his thighs before shutting off the water and hurrying back to the bedroom.

He dressed in his comfiest clothes, sweatpants and sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. He stuck the pad to his underwear, making sure it was positioned correctly before straightening. He wanted to climb back into bed and under the blankets and ignore the world until the pain in his stomach passed. He didn’t want to think and he didn’t want to move.

And then he remembered Dean. Like an idiot, he remembered Dean and it made him stand straight up with a jolt of horror.

Where was Dean?

_Where was Dean?_

Cas didn’t know. He didn’t remember very much of the past couple hours—hours? He didn’t remember last night. He panicked for a moment, scared of the worst possible scenario. He rushed out of the bedroom, jumping over the pool of soup and skidding out into the kitchen.

Dean was curled on the floor, pants around his ankles, thankfully sleeping. His face was pressed against the tile of the floor, and Cas shuddered when he realized his hands were crusted over with white.

“Dean,” he said. “Wake up.”

He swallowed, wondering if he should crouch down or touch Dean. How dangerous were alphas during an omega’s heat? And then he shook off the stupid thought. Dean wasn’t dangerous. Cas was just stupid. He crouched down and gently shook Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you need a shower,” he said. “You gotta wake up and take a shower.”

Dean groaned and slowly rolled over. His eyes fluttered open and he looked confused. “Cas?” he muttered. He sounded just as confused as he looked.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Cas said.

Dean sat bolt upright, yanking his shirt down and trying to hide his hands. “Cas!” he blurted. “Your heat! I didn’t—I wasn’t—you’re actually up!”

Cas nodded and made a point of not looking at Dean’s hands or below his waist. “Come on, you need a shower.”

Dean climbed to his feet without complaint and hurried past Cas, going straight to the bathroom. A moment later, the water turned on. Cas slumped against the counter, letting himself breathe through the pain for a moment. He wasn’t hungry but he knew he needed food.

He rummaged through the cupboards until he found a box of granola bars. He pulled it down and ripped it open. He devoured one in three bites and then opened the next one, chewing on it slower. Eating felt good. It gave his stomach something to do besides twist itself into cramps.

Cas moved around the kitchen then, straightening things up. He dropped a wet washcloth on the mess where Dean had been laying, making a note to clean that up later. He worked absentmindedly until he heard the water shut off and then a couple moments later, Dean reappeared, keeping his gaze locked on his feet. He was completely dressed this time, pants securely around his waist and a new shirt over his shoulders.   

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Because . . . . I mean, I was worried.”

“I’m fine now,” Cas reassured. “Well, doing better. How are you?”

“Fine,” Dean said, his tone clipped and careful.

Cas shuffled his feet. “And will you . . . . continue to be fine?” he asked. He knew how alphas were around omegas in heat.

Dean shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

Cas swallowed, hating the tension that had suddenly appeared between them. How was he supposed to fix it?

“I’ll clean up the kitchen and bedroom,” Dean offered. “You can sit down in the living room. Do you need something to eat?”

“I had granola bars,” Cas said, moving out of the kitchen and into the living room. It felt good to take his weight off his feet as he sank into the couch cushions. He sighed in relief.

Dean wrinkled his nose and sniffed. “You should eat something else,” he said, already pulling another can of soup down from the cupboard. Without waiting for Cas to answer, he cracked it open and dumped into a pan already on the stove.

“But I’m not hungry,” he said.

Dean flashed him A Look. “You need the food,” he said. “With what your body is going through and everything.”

“It’s my heat,” Cas said, slightly confused. “I’ve had it before.”

“Around an alpha?” Dean said.

Cas frowned. “No,” he said slowly.

Dean turned his back to Cas, busying himself with the soup. “You’ve missed three meals,” he said. “Dinner last night and breakfast and lunch today. Granola bars will only be so helpful.”

“How do you know?” Cas said.

Dean shrugged. “People need to eat,” he said. “It isn’t healthy for you to miss so many meals.”

Cas couldn’t really argue with that, so he didn’t protest as Dean poured all of the soup into a single bowl and carry it to him, setting it in his lap. And Cas ate without arguing either. Once he started eating the salty, savory broth, he couldn’t stop and he finished the bowl in minutes.

“Thank you,” he said, handing the bowl back to Dean.

Dean nodded, taking the bowl and carrying it back to the kitchen where he rinsed it quickly and set it aside to dry. Then he returned to the living room, taking a seat on the floor across from Cas. They sat in silence for a long moment, and Cas considered inviting Dean to sit on the couch instead.

“Are you okay, um, down there?” Dean asked, his cheeks going bright red. “Uh, my mom told me a little bit about what happens but that was a long time ago. Are you okay now?”

Cas blushed hot too. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m . . . . I’m through the worst of it now.”

“You were bleeding so bad,” Dean said. “I was scared.”

Cas nodded. “That’s, um, what usually happens,” he said. “The cramps aren’t usually so bad though. Did I pass out?”

Dean nodded. “I put you in the bath,” he explained. “Washed away whatever came out until it was done. It took around two hours. Then I put you back in the bedroom with the towels underneath you. I gave you some vitamins in water, along with something for pain.”

That would explain why Cas had woken up with such a blurry memory and why all the towels were in his bed. He was impressed with Dean, surprised he had been able to do so much.

“And then I came out into the kitchen,” Dean continued. “And, um, stayed there for the night.”

Cas nodded, knowing better than to ask about what Dean had done while in the kitchen. He was too embarrassed even though it was an obvious alphic reaction to an omega in heat. Cas wondered, stupidly, how much Dean had touched himself while he had been taken in the worst parts of his heat.

“Are you going to be okay now?” Dean asked, interrupting Cas’s thoughts. “I thought heats lasted for several days.”

“I’m better,” Cas said. “And it does. It just won’t be as bad as it was last night.”

“Oh,” Dean said and sniffed.

“You’ll be okay?” Cas said, scared that his heat scent would set Dean off.

Dean shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

“You can leave the apartment,” Cas offered. “Um, do a load of laundry or something. You don’t have to stay here if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t exactly bother me,” Dean said, but Cas could see the clench of muscles in his shoulder and the way he tried to breathe subtly through his mouth instead of his nose.

Cas would have to convince him another way. “Well, a load needs to be done either way,” he said. “Most of my clothes are dirtied. Plus the sheets and blankets.” He looked at Dean to see if it was working. He still looked hesitant. “If you do laundry, I will wash the floors.”

Dean grunted and pushed himself to his feet. “I can do both,” he said.

“Laundry first,” Cas said, jumping to his feet to follow Dean into the bedroom.

They collected the worst garments into a couple plastic bags. They had to squish the towels a lot to make them fit and the sheets and pillow cases had to be added too. Soon, Dean had everything gathered and by the door and pulled on his shoes.

“Money,” Cas said, giving him enough change to make the machines work.

“Thank you,” Dean said, putting the money in his pocket and gathering all the bags in his arms. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cas said, a little annoyed that Dean thought he needed constant supervision.

Dean wrinkled his nose, leaning in a bit closer to scent Cas. “Eat something while I’m gone, okay?” he said.

“I _will_ ,” Cas said, shooing him out the door. Finally, it clicked shut and Cas was alone again. He sighed in relief and moved to the kitchen.

He took down one of the two mugs they had bought and made himself a cup of tea on the stove. He added a bit of sugar and headed back to the living room. He collapsed on the couch and tipped his head back. Now that Dean was gone, he wouldn’t have to hide his winces and cramps. Now that Dean was gone, he let himself knead his stomach and gasp at the pain.

He would need to go to the bathroom soon. He could feel his thighs starting to stick together. He already had a shower but he already wanted another one. He took a sip of his tea and hoped that would somehow help.

It kinda did. He could feel the way the hot tea travelled down his throat and into his stomach. It made his entire body feel warm.

With nothing else to do, it was the perfect time to think.

So Cas thought.

He tried to plan. He tried to plan like Dean planned. Dean was the best at planning, and Cas wished he could talk with Dean about this because Cas honestly didn’t know what to do.

He thought about calling Gabe and asking him what he thought. His phone must be in the bedroom and Cas couldn’t motivate himself to stand and walk that far. So he satisfied himself with thinking. What would he say if he did call?

“Hey, Gabe, what’s up? It’s me, Cas, I abandoned you and Sam with Lucifer. What’s that? Oh, yes, Dean is angry at me for leaving his brother, why do you ask? Oh? Sam also hates me because I abandoned him? Yeah, that makes sense. Me? Oh, I’m fine, just in the middle of my heat with cramps that make me want to die.”

Cas groaned. No, that didn’t turn out good. Maybe something else.

“Hey, Gabe, I love you even though you forced me to have sex for a decade even when I didn’t want to. I still love you now too. Dean is with me, don’t worry. How is Sam? Any better? No? Yeah, that’s probably my fault. Yeah, I do feel horrible about it. Yeah, it’s eating me up alive. Yeah, I hate myself over it.”

No, no, no, no. That was even worse. Cas couldn’t say that. He sighed and took another sip of tea.

“Hey, Gabe, don’t worry, I’ve fucked myself so you don’t have to do it anymore. Yeah, I’m so fucked at this point. Boned. Boned, boned, boned, boned. No one could fuck me more than I fuck myself.”

The sharp sting of another cramp dragged him from his daydream, and Cas lurched forward, clutching his stomach. Several seconds later, the cramp subsided and Cas was able to relax. It was too much work to concentrate enough again to re-enter his daydream.

Cas closed his eyes and tried to relax.

“Hey, Gabe. I love you. I really do. I am also very confused. I’m still searching for a place in the world and I’m sure you are too. This entire place is too confusing to just label yourself right? Right?”

No.

“Hey, Gabe. I love you, I promise. I didn’t mean to abandon you but how am I supposed to be the one who has to fix everything? That’s way too much responsibility for just me! I can’t do that! It’s too much! Stop trying to make me doing everything! I can’t fucking—”

No.

“Hey, Gabe, I love you even though I messed up big time. I love you so, so much and I hope you still love me too. You probably hate me though. And Sam probably hates me. And Dean probably hates me. And I hate myself. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.”

No.

“Hey, Gabe.”

There would be a long pause and Cas would have to pull himself back from the brink of crying because he would be so damn emotional. Cas would clutch to phone tight to his ear as if it were Gabe instead of hard plastic. That’s how touch starved Cas felt. A damn phone call would make his cry at this point so maybe not having his phone was a good thing.

“Hey, Gabe.” There would be a pause. “I love you.”


	11. Everything and Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of you were eager to read about Dean at the laundromat, but I never wrote that ^-^; so you'll have to assume everything went okay
> 
> Here's this instead ^-^

“Alright, Sam, a-a-a-nd _open_ your eyes!”

Sam smiled at the playful tone in his mate’s voice. He could smell maple syrup, the real stuff, and the heat of the kitchen was a nice change to the bedroom. Sam was even sitting at a table, on a plush cushion so he wouldn’t have to sit on the hard, uncomfortable wood.

“I said,” Gabe repeated. “ _Open_ your eyes! Come on, Sam! See what I did!”

Sam winced and felt his smile waver. Gabe sounded so _happy_. So excited. And Sam wouldn’t be able to see his excitement. He could smell it. He could smell the pancakes that Gabe had obviously made. He could smell how happy and eager Gabe was.

He couldn’t see it.

And he could smell Gabe’s excitement fade into sadness, and that made Sam’s heart hurt. So he pushed himself up from his chair, feeling and scenting his way around the table to where he knew Gabe was standing.

He could visualize the room. He knew where the stove and counters were. He knew where the table and chairs were too. And when he finally caught Gabe’s hand, he knew where his mate was too.

“I can smell,” Sam said. He took a deep breath just to prove it. He smiled. “Let me guess. Pancakes. Syrup. You.”

Gabe’s scent lightened again, and he laughed. He gave Sam’s hand a squeeze and led him back to his seat. “But don’t you want to see?” he asked.

Sam winced because he _did_. He really, really did. But the thought of actually opening his eyes made him want to curl in on himself. It was just _so easy_ to keep them closed and keep the world dark and not have to worry about things. He could rely on his nose for the most part so he wasn’t completely helpless.

“I do,” he said, struggling to speak around the lump in his throat. “But I can smell it just fine.”

Gabe sighed, his lingering touch retreating from Sam’s hand and shoulder. “Then I’ll get you a plate,” he said. “So you can taste it too, okay?”

Sam nodded eagerly, excited to eat something other than the bland vanilla protein shakes Gabe had been giving him for several days now. Sam wasn’t quite sure exactly how long he had been eating them but it was getting boring. Pancakes sounded like heaven.

He listened as Gabe moved around the kitchen, opening different drawers and setting down plates and picking up silverware. Then there was the final clatter of the plate being set down in front of him, and Sam waited eagerly for Gabe to give him permission to eat.

“Go on,” Gabe said.

Sam gently patted the table until he found his silverware, a plastic fork it felt like. He found the edge of his plate with his other hand and guessed where the pancakes were. He cut with the edge of his fork the best he could.

The pile of pancakes gave under his fork, soft and hot from the griddle, and Sam could smell the maple syrup wafting up with the steam. Eagerly, as best he could, he cut himself out a bite and stabbed where he thought it was. He lifted what he hoped was on his fork to his mouth and managed to successfully get a chunk of pancake into his mouth.

It was warm and gooey and almost overly sweet, candied with syrup and melting in his mouth. Sam chewed slowly, savoring the treat as much as he could. And then he swallowed, found the edge of the plate again, and guessed where he could cut another bite. When his fork hit empty plate, Gabe laughed.

“Here,” he said, and his chair scraped back.

His hand guided Sam’s to where the pancake actually was and then nudged him down, helping him cut another bite. Gabe even helped him spear it before leaving him to stuff it into his mouth. Sam didn’t exactly like making so much trouble but the pancake was too good and he was just thankful to get more in his stomach.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Gabe said, guiding his hand down so he could cut his next bite.

So they went back and forth like that, Gabe helping Sam with each bite before going back to his own plate. Sometimes, Sam would chew extra-long so that Gabe could have two bites before having to help him again. Sam didn’t want to take up all of Gabe’s time. Finally his plate was clean.

“Was it good?” Gabe asked, taking Sam’s plate and walking to the sink.

Sam nodded. “Yes, thank you,” he said. He pushed himself up, wanting to feel his way to the sink to help Gabe clean up the inevitable pots and pans. He barely got to his feet before Gabe was making a noise of disapproval.

“No, Sam, you sit. I'm going to clean up,” he said.

Sam frowned but obediently sat back down. A moment later, there was a soft thud as Gabe set down a cup on the table in front of him. His hand was guided to the smooth glass surface, and he wrapped his fingers around it.

“Drink,” Gabe said, patting the top of his head and returning to the sink.

Sam obeyed, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a cautious sip. It was just water though, cold and refreshing after the sticky sweet syrup. Sam gulped it down eagerly and finished it quickly. He found the edge of the table with his other hand and slid the glass onto the surface so that it wouldn’t drop to the floor or spill.

The water at the sink ran for a bit before shutting off, and Sam guessed the Gabe was done with the dishes.

“You have a doctor’s appointment today,” Gabe said.

Sam immediately stiffened, clutching the edge of the table tight. Doctor. Was that good or bad? Sam was going to guess bad. He must’ve done something wrong and now Gabe finally decided he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. Sam shivered and shook his head before he remembered himself and hung his head obediently.

“It's nothing bad,” Gabe said. “It's to make sure you're healthy, okay? You haven't been bad.”

“Okay,” Sam said, not really believing him but knowing better than to argue. And then he felt bad for not trusting his mate.

“The doctor is very smart,” Gabe went on. “One of the best in her field. I just want to make sure you are getting better and there's nothing else wrong.”

Wrong. So there _was_ something wrong with him. Sam knew it. But no, at the same time, he was fine. Gabe just wanted to double check like the good mate he was. If the doctor wasn’t bad, then Sam wasn’t wrong. If the doctor was good, then Sam was fine.

“I just wanted to finish the dishes,” Gabe said. “The betas can clean up everything else.”

There was a clatter as plates were stacked together and then the shuffle as Gabe moved around the kitchen a little more. Sam followed him with his nose, scenting where he was. Gabe clapped his hands once.

“Time to go,” he said, returning to Sam’s side to help him to his feet.

Go back to the bathroom or go to the doctor? Sam was left wondering as Gabe gently pulled him along, guiding him out of the kitchen and down the halls. Sam tracked the change through the surface under his feet and the change of smells. Just like he thought, they ended up back in the bedroom, but Gabe didn’t let him go to the bed. Instead, Gabe stood him in what Sam guessed was the center of the room and left him there.

“You need to get dressed to go out,” Gabe said, moving across the space. “Don’t worry.”

After a couple minutes of rustling, Gabe was pulling a soft cotton shirt over his head, threading his arms through sleeves that came down to his elbows. Sam stepped into the underwear and pants that were both just as soft. Gabe lingered briefly, tying the strings so that the pants wouldn’t fall down. Then he lifted Sam’s feet one by one and slipped on shoes.

“Alright,” Gabe said. “One last thing.”

Sam flinched at first at the hands near his face but then relaxed, knowing that it was just Gabe. A soft fabric molded itself over his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Gabe secured the blindfold behind the back on his head, and Sam relaxed.

He didn’t have to squeeze his eyes so much. He didn’t have to focus on keeping them closed. In fact, just to himself, Sam opened them a crack, satisfied to only be able to see the black and a thin line of light down near the bottom of his line of sight. Quickly, as if he had broken the rules, he squeezed his eyes shut again.

“You’ll be wearing a collar and a leash,” Gabe said, and Sam felt the soft leather mold around his neck. He then heard the sharp click of a leash. “But don’t worry. It will just be until we get to the hospital.”

Sam nodded actually preferring having the constant tug to help him along. He was able to follow Gabe along a little bit easier, although he did like holding his mate’s hand. Still, he didn’t protest as Gabe led him back out of the bedroom down the halls.

Sam smelled the outside before he felt it, and that only made him more excited. He was smiling by the time he felt the sunlight on his skin. It only lasted a couple moments before there was a clack of a car door opening, and Gabe was guiding him down into the seat and buckling him in.

Sam kinda wanted to open the window so he could feel the wind in his face while they drove but knew better than to ask.

Gabe rambled off some address to the beta in the driver’s seat and the vehicle pulled out of the driveway.

Sam sat obediently still and quiet and made sure that Gabe and the beta weren’t bothered during the trip. He knew better than to make a fuss. Before long, the car was pulling to a stop and Gabe was unclipping their seatbelts.

“We’re here,” he said. “Come on, Sam.”

Sam waited for Gabe to open his door and pull him out. The outside was not as nice here as it was back at the house.

The sharp smell of cleaning supplies and medicine filled the air. Sam wrinkled his nose at the scent of hurt beta and omega. It made the hair on his arms stand on end and he fidgeted as Gabe pulled him further and further toward the source of the smells.

The air conditioning of the building was turned up way too high, and Sam shivered as they walked inside. He licked his lips and did his best to breathe through his mouth. He was once again thankful for the blindfold, so that he didn’t have to worry about seeing the weird stares or odd looks.

“We need to go to the fifth floor,” Gabe said, pulling him forward. “If we get an empty elevator that would be best.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just obediently followed the direction the leash pulled him in. They walked for a bit before they entered some sort of room. Sam could hear the change from carpet to tile and was confused when they stopped. There was a ding and then the room started _moving_.

Sam immediately reached out for Gabe, panicking. He found his mate’s hand and squeezed it tight, even more confused when Gabe wasn’t freaking out the same way he was.

“It’s an elevator,” Gabe said with a laugh. “They are supposed to move. It’s a lot better than walking up all those stairs.”

Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He also decided that he did not like elevators at all.

Thankfully, the movement ended quickly, and Gabe pulled him out onto more carpet. They walked down more halls and then stopped again.

“Sit here while I see if there’s any paperwork,” Gabe said, pushing Sam down gently on an overstuffed sofa. “Hands to yourself.”

Sam nodded and folded his hands in his lap. He cocked his head, listening as Gabe walked away. The room didn’t smell as bad as the rest of the building. In fact, it smelled faintly of alphas and less like medicine. It didn’t make Sam want to crawl out of his skin anyway.

“They’ll call us back when they’re ready,” Gabe said, returning to Sam’s side and taking the seat next to him. He pressed a square of hard plastic into Sam’s hands, a smile in his voice. “Here, this will buzz when it’s our turn.”

Sam turned the device over in his hands, feeling the different ridges and bumps. Buzz? It would buzz? That seemed interesting. At least it gave him something to do with his hands while they waited. He jumped when it vibrated in his hands several minutes later, and Gabe laughed.

“That’s us,” Gabe said, plucking the device out of his hands. He pulled Sam up and they walked across the room.

“Is this our patient today?” a gruff voice asked. He was a beta and smelled like medicine and orange cleaner. Nice, and not dangerous smelling.

“This is Sam,” Gabe said, nudging Sam forward probably in the man’s direction. “Sam, this is David. He’s the nurse that’s going to help us.”

“Hey-ya, Sam,” David said. “We’re going to take some measurements and then get you settled in a room, how does that sound?”

Sam frowned but knew better than to protest. A warm, soft hand took his own, pulling him forward. Sam stiffened against the contact since that obviously wasn’t Gabe. But he could smell his mate right behind him so he didn’t yank his hand away.

David put him on a scale and wrote things down. He lifted Sam’s shirt to press a hand against his stomach and looked in his ears. He chatted with both Sam and Gabe, asking about their day and how things were going. Gabe gave him the bare minimum of information but kept it friendly. Sam tried not to flinch when David ran his hands down his leg and tested his muscles and reflexes.

“Okay, Sam, you’ve been so brave for me,” David said. “Now, for this next part, I need you to take off your shirt.”

Sam immediately pulled away until he felt Gabe’s hand on his knee. He knew it was Gabe’s because it gave him an encouraging squeeze and didn’t move anywhere else.

“Come on, Sam,” Gabe said. “I know you can do this.”

Sam gulped and, not wanting to disappoint Gabe, pulled his shirt over and off his hand, being careful not to dislodge the blindfold.

“What a good job!” David praised, his scent both happy and relieved. “Alright, I’m going to need you to turn, so I can see your back. I’m going to be touching you, Sam, and it might be a bit painful but I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just going to see how everything is healing.”

Sam nodded and shifted in his seat, baring his back to him. Fingers gently pressed against his shoulders, making their way down his spine, gently over the scrapes and scabs. David hummed and hawed and finally stepped back, writing his thoughts down.

“Let's get you to a room,” he said. “And the doctor will be with you shortly.”

Sam moved to pull his shirt back on but Gabe stopped him with a touch.

“Keep it off for now,” he said. “The doctor needs to see as well.”

Sam didn't like walking through the cold halls without a shirt but had no choice as Gabe tugged on his leash and pulled him out of the room. They didn’t have to walk that far before entering another room, this one significantly warmer than the hallway. At least Sam wasn’t shivering from cold now.

Gabe sat him down on a surface covered in paper that crinkled underneath him. Sam fidgeted but stayed where he was.

“I’ll fill out some paperwork with the information I have,” David said. “And then the doctor will be with you. For now, you can wait here. If you have any questions, please feel free to ring the buzzer. Please do not touch anything.” The last part was directed at Sam.

“Thank you so much,” Gabe said.

And with that, David walked out of the room.

“Dr. Tran is one of the best in her field,” Gabe said as the door clicked closed. “I think you’ll like her, Sam. I made sure to talk on the phone beforehand so everything will be alright.”

Sam nodded and wasted time by picking at his fingers. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again, and the scent of medicine and omega drifted in.

“Hello, you two,” a stern, female voice said. “You must be Sam and Gabe. My name is Dr. Tran, alfintrician.”

“Hello, Dr. Tran,” Gabe said. His chair creaked as he got up probably to shake Dr. Tran’s hand. Sam stayed where he was.

“So I see Sam has some minor cuts and bruising on his shoulders and back,” Dr. Tran went on. “You say he’s been eating alright? Getting enough solid and liquids.”

“He’s been eating protein shakes,” Gabe said. “That used to be all he could keep down, but just this morning he ate pancakes.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Tran said. “Improvement. The blindfold?”

“He hasn’t opened his eyes,” Gabe said softly. “Um, ever since that night.”

“Hm,” Dr. Tran said. “Alright. Let’s see what I can do.” There was a clack as she set down her clipboard. “Sam, I’m going to examine you now. Don’t be surprised.”

Sam still flinched when her hands touched his shoulders, going over the same wounds David had examined. She was much more careful, concentrated, and methodic as she worked. She then gripped his face, dipping his fingers into his mouth and gently pressing down on his tongue until he opened for her. She touched his stomach, just like David had, pressing against his ribs and pinching the roll of fat Sam knew he had despite every work-out he had been forced to do.

“He’s still a healthy weight, so you’ve been doing well on the nutrition end of everything,” Dr. Tran said. “Sam, can you take off your pants for me?”

Sam shivered, twitching his face in Gabe’s direction, silently begging his mate to say no.

“Sam, please,” Gabe said.

Sam sighed and hung his head, awkwardly sliding off the table and bending to tug his pants down. Just his pants. And he silently hoped that he could keep his underwear even though he already felt naked as he was.

“That’s good,” Dr. Tran said, gripping his arm to help him jump back up onto the table.

She then gripped his thighs, pushing his legs apart. She felt down each one in turn, picking up Sam’s heels to stretch them completely out. Sam sucked in a sharp breath when she cupped his crotch but then she was pulling away before he could even think about retaliating.

“You keep him caged?” she said.

“He hasn’t shown any interest anyway,” Gabe said. “And I haven’t pushed anything because of the . . . stress.”

Dr. Tran’s hands returned to Sam’s neck then, pressing against his mating bite with enough pressure to make Sam wince. When she didn’t pull back, he bared his teeth, trying to pull away from the pain. Still, she kept it up, pressing harder and harder against the wound. Finally, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He hissed in pain and slapped her hand away without thinking.

“Sam!” Gabe said with a gasp.

“No, it’s okay,” Dr. Tran said. “I pushed him. I wanted to get a reaction.”

Sam whimpered at the dull throb that was left in his neck, wanting to rub the pain away. Why had she done that? Weren’t doctors supposed to make you feel better?

“At least his mating bite is healing very nicely,” Dr. Tran said, snapping her gloves as she pulled them off to replace them. “Too often I see infections from couples licking each other’s bites.” She sat down and started typing on a keyboard. “Sentimental and a nice thought, but completely unsanitary.”

“Oh,” Gabe said, smelling embarrassed.  

“Now, I would like to run some x-rays,” Dr. Tran said. “Just of his upper chest and ribs to make sure nothing is cracked. I’d also like to talk with him if possible. He has been talking, right?”

“Sometimes,” Gabe said. “Not really around anyone but me though.”

“Well,” Dr. Tran said. “We’ll try to change that today.”

She pushed away from the desk with a clatter of wheels on tile and stood. She patted Sam on the shoulder, urging him to jump off the bed again.

“Let’s get your pants on and we can be in and out of the x-ray room in ten minutes,” she said, pushing the bundle of fabric into Sam’s hands.

Gratefully, he pulled them back on, fumbling with the strings before Gabe stepped forward to help. Again, he wasn’t given his shirt as they walked out of the room.

Just like Dr. Tran said, the x-ray barely took any time at all. Sam didn’t like it because Gabe had to stay in a different room and he had to wear a heavy apron that pressed on his shoulders and chest. But Dr. Tran just stood him in front of a large machine that pressed into his chest at the shoulders and ribs. She told him to stay before walking out of the room. There were two loud clicks and then she was back, pulling the apron off of him and leading him back to the examination room.

“You’ve done so well so far, Sam,” she said. He was sat down on a cushioned chair instead of the paper lined table. Her fingers brushed his ears as she unclipped the blindfold.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight as it fell away.

“Hey, Sam,” Dr. Tran said. “Gabe agreed to give us a little time alone together, okay? I just want to talk a little with you.”

Sam stiffened. He had completely forgot to scent for Gabe. Like an _idiot_. How could he forget about his mate so easily?! He sat straight up, scenting for him now. Where was the door? Which direction? Sam hadn’t been paying attention and now he felt stupid!

“Easy, easy,” Dr. Tran said. “Gabe is alright and so are you. I just want to talk.”

Sam reluctantly slumped back down in his chair. He still didn’t feel comfortable.

“I want to talk about what happened the night that Gabe brought home the other alpha,” Dr. Tran said.

“No,” Sam blurted without thinking. He had been doing his best to block out those memories. Besides, that was all passed now. All done, no more need to worry about Sam. He was _fine_.

“Now I know you’re healing physically,” Dr. Tran said, ignoring his outburst apparently. “None of your wounds are infected which is more than I see in a lot of alphas frankly. But I want to talk about you a little. How you’re feeling.”

Sam frowned. “Fine,” he said. “I’m fine. I tell Gabe that and he doesn’t believe.”

“Hm,” Dr. Tran said, her pen scratching across paper. “Do you think he’s still worried about you?”

Sam nodded. “No need to be worried,” he said.

“Well, he is,” Dr. Tran said. “Do you think it’s because you won’t open your eyes?”

Sam shrugged. Honestly he didn’t know why Gabe was still so worried. Sam ate. He slept. He walked around with help. He insisted that he was fine more than once. Gabe was just too worried.

“When do you think you’ll open your eyes again?” Dr. Tran asked. “Because, Sam, I’m pretty sure you can’t spend the rest of your life with your eyes closed.”

Sam pouted. Yes he could. He could at least try.

Dr. Tran sighed and wrote more, the silence filled with the scratch of her pen. Finally she stopped and stood. She patted Sam on the top of the head. “You did very well,” she said. “I’m going to find Gabe now and we can all talk together.”

She walked out of the door, leaving Sam alone in the room that smelled too much like medicine. Sam scented the air again and again, searching for even the smallest hint of Gabe, and when he finally caught a whiff, out in the hall, he jumped to his feet.

“—sure you can’t do anything with cases like this?” Gabe was saying as they walked back into the room.

“There is some,” Dr. Tran said. “But most medication I could prescribe would be downers or relaxers, stuff that would clock him out so much that he would forget everything. I'm sure that's not an option you want to take just yet.”

“No,” Gabe said and apparently finally noticed Sam. “Hey!” he said, stepping forward to give him a quick hug. “I heard you were perfect for Dr. Tran while I was gone. Good job!”

Sam beamed at the praise, glad to know that his speaking out of turn wouldn't be punished.

“What I would suggest,” Dr. Tran went on, pushing past them to sit down at her desk. “Is socialization therapy. Something slow-paced and easy, just to give him an outlet where he can be more confident. I can recommend you to several daycares and give you a doctor's slip that would opt you out of the monthly payments.”

“Socialization therapy?” Gabe repeated, securing the blindfold back over Sam's eyes and finally handing him back his t-shirt which Sam pulled on gratefully.

“In a dumbed down sense, it's playtime for him,” Dr. Tran said. “He can be around other alphas, doesn't have to worry about things, can just socialize and adapt at his own rate.”

“Huh, Sam,” Gabe said, clipping his leash back on. “Does daycare sound good?”

Sam wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to, but Gabe smelled so happy and excited at the suggestion that he nodded anyway.

“Great,” Gabe said. “Uh, I guess we'll look into it.”

“Here,” Dr. Tran said, tearing off a sheet of paper. “Take this. Show it to the places you look at and ask them about socialization therapy specifically. Most of them have their own programs.”

“Thank you so much,” Gabe said.

“Best of luck,” Dr. Tran said. “It was great meeting you, Sam, I hope you feel better soon.”

“I hope he does too,” Gabe said, answering for Sam. “Goodbye.”

They walked out of the office and back down the hallways. They took the stairs this time, much to Sam's relief even though he had to clutch tightly to Gabe to get down every step. Sam took deep breaths of fresh air when they finally stepped out of the front doors, finally glad to be outside the stench of medicine.

“I figured we could stop for food on the way home,” Gabe said. “To celebrate. Because you did so well.”

“Yes, please,” Sam said, climbing into the back seat of the car.

Gabe gave the driver instructions before buckling both himself and Sam in. The car pulled into motion and they were on their way. Gabe rested a hand on Sam's knee, gently rubbing him, never going too high.

“You will get better,” he said, as if it were a stone cold fact.

Sam purred. When Gabe said it like that, he knew it had to be true.  

 


	12. Conversations

Cas paused with his finger hovered over the call button of his phone, still trying to gather up enough courage to actually press it. He stared at the contact photo he had saved to the number, hating the way it made his heart twist.

It was a picture of Gabe from a while ago. A long while ago because Cas remembered being able to smell during the occasion. The picture had been snapped at a birthday party. Gabe’s birthday party. He had been tipsy on champagne and wearing three different feather boas, head tipped back, frozen in time as he laughed at the ass-shaped cake placed in front of him.

It was a picture Cas liked. Gabe had been happy and carefree and less focused on work and more focused on family at the time.  

Cas sighed and hit the call button, bringing the phone to his ear so that he wouldn’t have to look at the picture anymore. He listened to the phone ring instead, chewing his lip nervously as he waited for Gabe to answer.

He practiced the words over and over in his head.

Hello, Gabe. Hey, Gabe. What’s up, Gabe? What’s shaking? What’s happening? What’s going on? What’s the big news? Hey, Gabe, do you hate me yet?

No, Cas was trying to pull himself away from conversation topics like that. Keep it light and casual. Ask how Sam was doing. Maybe even tell him how Dean was doing. There was a click as the phone was picked up on the other end.

“What do you want?”

No ‘hello.’ No ‘hey.’ Not even a concerned ‘what’s up.’ Cas winced, wanting to hang up immediately. But he held onto the phone, took a deep breath, and steeled himself for the conversation.

“It’s me, Gabe. It’s Cas.”

“I know,” Gabe said. “I have caller ID.”

It sounded like he was in a car, the low hum of traffic leaking through the background. Cas chewed his lip, wondering where Gabe was and where he was driving and if Sam was with him.

“I wanted to say hi,” Cas tried.

“Well, you said it,” Gabe snapped. “You’re not calling for nothing, I know that. What do you want?”

Cas swallowed. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” he said. “How everything is going and whatever. How are you and Sam doing?”

“We’re doing _great_ ,” Gabe said, the venom clear and obvious in his voice. “Just _great_. You wanna know where we are right now, Cas? Wanna know where Sam and I just were?”

Cas’s chest felt tight. “Where?” he asked, his throat going dry.

“The hospital,” Gabe said. “The _hospital_ , Cas. Because I wanted to make sure Sam wasn’t going to die from what happened. That’s where I was, Cas. And now I’m going home where I’m going to hope I don’t run into Luci who will skin me alive if he knows I spent money on a doctor’s appointment for an alpha!”

“I’m sorry!” Cas blurted. “Look, Gabe, I was scared that night and I didn’t know what I was doing! All I could think about was getting out of there as fast as possible. Getting _Dean_ out of there as fast as possible.”

“Oh, Dean, Dean,” Gabe said. “I get that he’s some stupid medical thing for you, but why do you even care so much? You survived without him before. You’re not even _mated_.”

Cas clenched the phone tight in his fist, his chest going equally tight. “Gabe,” he tried. “I love you. I really do. I just couldn't stay in that house anymore. I loved you. I _love_ you!”

“Well, shit that does me,” Gabe said. “That doesn’t help—”

There was a rustle on Gabe’s end, and then heavy breathing came through the ear piece. There was a hiss of static and then a familiar voice came through as loud and clear as Gabe’s but sounding much more concerned.

“Dean?”

It was Sam’s voice. Cas hadn’t planned on talking to Sam. He hadn’t thought about what he would do or what he would say.

“Sam,” he said stupidly. All he could think of was what he had rehearsed to say to Gabe so when he opened his mouth, that’s what came out. “Sam. Hey. I . . . I love you.”

“Dean?” Sam repeated. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean is . . . . busy,” Cas said. “He had to go shopping for food.”

“Can I talk with him?” Sam asked.

Cas swallowed hard. “He’s not here, Sam. I’m sorry.”

There was more rustling in the background on Gabe’s end, muffled words that Cas could kind of make out. It sounded like Gabe and Sam were wrestling for the phone.

“Sam, hand it back!” Gabe said. “Give me back the phone!”

Sam whined loudly into the receiver, making Cas wince. “Dean,” he pleaded. “Gabe, I want Dean. Where’s Dean? I wanna talk to him.”

Cas had just about chewed through his lip with guilt and worry and kept his mouth shut, just listening to the scuffle until it sounded like Gabe successfully got the phone back and pressed it to his ear.

“You can’t even let him talk to Dean?” he said. “You’re the one who made such a big deal about them being brothers.”

“Dean isn’t here!” Cas had to re-explain all over again. “He went to the store to get food because I have my heat—”

“Fuck,” Gabe spat, all of a sudden sounding very, very concerned. “Your heat?! Cas, why didn’t you say that first? Are you okay? Has Dean done anything? You are eating, right? You have to eat enough food or else your cramps will be extra bad. And make sure you’re drinking enough too because you can get dehydrated really quickly—”

“I am,” Cas said, cutting off his rant. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been eating and drinking and taking vitamins. Everything.”

“And with Dean?” Gabe said.

“He’s been good,” Cas said, knowing Gabe didn’t need much to start hating him again. “Dean has been more than good. Helpful, considerate too. Nothing bad.”

“Good,” Gabe said.

And then it hit Cas: the odd, oxymoron-ish skew of the situation. “So you can worry about me but I can’t worry about you?” he said. “That doesn’t make sense, Gabe! You can’t tell me that I don’t care and then act like you care yourself!”

“This isn’t an act!” Gabe said angrily.

“And neither is mine!” Cas said.

There was a long moment of awkward silence as they both found themselves contradicting what they both wanted of the other. Cas could picture it. Gabe with his jaw set and his eyebrows slightly drawn together, the way he always looked when he was looking for a reason to be angry but found nothing. He did it most often when the betas hadn’t exactly left the rooms unclean but hadn’t exactly cleaned it either.

“Gabe,” Cas said, being the first one to break the silence. Tears filled his eyes and he swallowed them back. He knew he shouldn’t be getting emotional. He was investing himself way too much in this single conversation. “I love you.”

There was a long pause on Gabe’s end, the background noise of the street extra loud in the silence. Cas was nervous, a ball of snakes twisting in his stomach. He didn’t know what to expect. No, he _did_ know what to expect. He expected Gabe to hang up on him without another word.

“Cas,” Gabe said instead. “I love you too.”

Cas had to cover his mouth to hold back his sob. Instead, his shoulders jerked and his whole body tried to curl up. Tears overflowed his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Cas was biting his bottom lip so hard, trying to ground himself with the pain. It didn’t work. He bit the palm of his hand as he sobbed into his fingers.

“I love Dean,” Sam murmured in the background somewhere, his breath huffing through the phone as he presumably tried to get it back. “I love you.”

Cas’s jerking sob was broken by a bitter laugh. Just for a moment, he forgot that he was sitting on a shitty couch, in a shitty apartment, in a shitty neighborhood.

“Sam, hands to yourself,” Gabe said. “I love you too.”

Cas laughed again. It didn’t stop his tears or snot from running down his face but it was nice to laugh instead of cry. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, only succeeding in spreading the mess.

“Cas,” Gabe started again. “We’re in deep shit.”

“I know,” Cas said. “I fucking know.”

There was another stretch of silence but this time it’s not as awkward.

“Sam is going to be alright,” Gabe said. “He’s going to get help, and I’m going to make sure it’s good help. We’ve got a couple appointments for later in the week and the doctor thinks things will be fine.”

“Thank you,” Cas said without thinking. “For, like, taking care of him. Dean will be glad to hear.”

Gabe laughed. “I guessed being mated really changes a guy,” he said. “Shit, never imagined myself as a sentimental family man.”

That sobered up Cas faster than a ice shower. “Family?” he repeated. “You and Sam—”

“That’s not what I meant!” Gabe said quickly. “I meant being . . . . sentimental. I meant like, looking at an alpha like this. Mmph!”

He was suddenly cut off as there was another scuffle. This time though, instead of sounds of a struggle, it just sounded like him and Sam were kissing. Breathy gasps and small moans leaked through the earpiece, making Cas squirm in his seat.

“Yes, I love you, Sam,” Gabe mumbled. “Okay, okay, I get it. You love me too. Now get off, so I can finish talking with Cas.”

Cas waited patiently and awkwardly as Gabe and Sam finished whatever they were doing. He felt horribly like a third wheel, being put on hold until someone was ready for him. Finally, though, Gabe addressed him again.  

“I’m glad we could talk,” he said. “Honestly, Cas, especially with things being as crazy as they are.”

Cas nodded without thinking. “I know,” he said. “Um, I’ll keep you updated on my end too. When we finally figure out what we’re doing.”

“I noticed you had the Onom credit card,” Gabe said.

Cas stiffened immediately, fear flooding his chest as the conversation took a direction he hadn’t planned for at all. His throat went dry and to make matters worse, a cramp seized his stomach, distracting him from thinking of an excuse.

“I don’t care,” Gabe said before Cas could mumbled out a half-cooked excuse. “I’ll just have to hide the bills from Luci.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. “I wasn’t thinking. I just . . . . I wouldn’t have any money.”

Gabe sighed. “I get it,” he said. “Look, just make sure you don’t overspend. The card’s in my name anyway so I can just claim the purchases.”

“Thank you, Gabe,” Cas repeated. “Honestly, I’ve just—this is something I’ve never done before. I was just thinking of Dean and taking care of him. I didn’t mean to hurt you or Sam or anyone.”

“I get it,” Gabe said. “I guess I just forgot that you were growing up too. You’ve always been my younger brother. I thought I had to take care of you all the time and I guess I never realized that you were no longer a little kid.”

Cas still felt like a little kid. He didn’t feel old enough to be taking on the world, by himself or with an alpha. He just didn’t feel ready.

“Thank you,” he said.

“At least we talked,” Gabe said. “You know what marriage counselors always say: Communication is key.”

“How would you know what marriage counselors say?” Cas said.

“Soap operas,” Gabe said, sounding only half sarcastic. “What do you think I’ve been watching while Sam is bedridden? That’s all the channels ever play during the day. I feel like an old, retired omega.”

“Tell Sam I hope he feels better soon,” Cas said. “And that I’ll call again when Dean is home and things are less crazy.”

Gabe repeated the message to Sam who excitedly asked to talk to Dean again. That was followed by Gabe explaining all over again that Dean wasn’t there and that they could talk _later_ when Dean had come home.

“He’s so high maintenance,” Gabe said, but Cas could hear the smile in his voice and knew he was joking.

Cas smiled too. “We’ll call as soon as we can,” he promised.

“Thank you,” Gabe said. “Look, I gotta go. We’re checking out a couple different places to help Sam and we just got the first one. I’ll talk to you later, whenever you call.”

“Goodbye,” Cas said, waiting until he heard the dial tone on Gabe’s end before hanging up for himself and setting the phone aside.

He wiped the last of his tears off his face and stood, heading to the bathroom to wash his face of the snot and mess. He used a cold washcloth, pressing it against his eyes to get rid of the redness. Satisfied that he didn’t look like he had been crying his eyes out, he used the toilet and returned to the kitchen to put a mug of water in the microwave for tea.

He grabbed the box down from the cupboard and frowned at how light it was. He had been drinking a lot of tea the past few days. It helped with the cramps. He didn’t realize that they were almost out of it. He would need to send Dean to the store for more as soon as he got back from the laundromat.

Then again, Cas had been feeling better recently. Maybe, if he was with Dean, he could leave the apartment to help with errands. With the alphas outside, Cas was a little nervous, but with Dean, he might be okay. It would have to be something he asked Dean about.

The microwave chimed as the cook time hit zero, and Cas pulled the mug out, dunking his tea bag into the water. He sweetened it with sugar before heading back to the couch to relax again. He eased himself down and grabbed his phone.

He had some Googling to do if his and Dean’s future was going to improve.

 


	13. Something Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge shoutout to snips92 whose comment motivated me to finish writing the next chapter so this could go up 
> 
> you the real mvp ^-^

Dean agreed to take Cas to the laundromat the next morning, so Cas eagerly went to sleep early that night, even eating dinner especially quickly and telling Dean he could leave the dishes. For all his excitement, he slept easily that night, waking up refreshed and feeling better than he had in days. He was recovering from his heat, the flow of his slick lessening significantly.

Cas took a quick shower before dressing in his most comfortable clothing which, honestly, wasn’t much. It was a cotton t-shirt with the words ‘Don’t grow up! It’s a trap!’ printed across the chest and a pair of soft jeans that were faded around the knees and thighs. He was ready and waiting for by the door by the time Dean was getting out of the bathroom himself.

“After spending months inside,” Dean grumbled under his breath. “You’d think he’d be used to a couple days in.”

Cas felt his cheeks go hot at that and fidgeted restlessly. Yeah, sure, he had been used to sitting for days at home but that was before Dean. With Dean, Cas didn’t want to sit still or stay in one place. Plus, his body was aching for the exercise it had gotten so used to.

“I’m just eager to go,” Cas said, wanting to defend himself.

Dean flinched, like he hadn’t realized that Cas had heard him, and busied himself preparing something to eat, sandwiches by the looks of it. But Cas wasn’t hungry. He wanted to _go_.

Luckily, Dean was able to wrap up the sandwiches quickly, packing them up in a plastic bag and tucking them into the fridge for later, when they returned home. Cas was carrying a bag of his own with his phone, laptop, and water bottle.

The weather was near perfect outside, just a couple clouds in the sky and the temperature not too hot and not too cold. Cas carefully locked the front door behind them before he and Dean walked down the stairs and towards the sidewalk.

Cas’s heart was pounding in his chest as the rough looking people eyed him up and down, scenting him with interest. He flushed self-consciously, shifting so he was walking closer to Dean, protected by his bulk and hiding in his shadow.

One of men, a skinny guy with black stained teeth, whistled at him. “Hey, sweet thing, watchya doin’ outta your bed? Lookin’ for a knot?”  

Dean glared at him, shifting so that he was between him and Cas. “Back off,” he said.

The man cleared his throat and spat up a wad of off-colored spit. “If he’s yours then you should mark him,” he said, tapping one dirty fingernail against the side of his own neck. “Don’t get pissy if we think he’s open season.”

“Come on,” Dean said under his breath, hurrying Cas along with a hand pressed firmly against his lower back.

Cas kept his eyes on the ground, but the rest of the people didn’t try anything. Not with Dean hovering so close. So he and Dean made it safely onto the sidewalk and away from the building complex. In no time at all, they were far enough away that Cas was able to relax and enjoy being outside again.

The laundromat was empty, like usual, except for Abuela Astella, sitting where she always sat, smoking the joint of paper she always had. Honestly, Cas wasn't sure if she ever left the laundromat. She always seemed to be here whenever they came.

“Hey, _Chico_ ,” she greeted as they walked through the front doors. She was reading a magazine, some crazy thing that talked about all the scandals and rumors floating around of omega celebrities. Abuela Astella even nodded at Dean. “And _puta_.”

“Hey,” Cas said with a smile of his own. They were friendly enough, but Abuela Astella never seemed to use their names no matter what.

“You have your heat,” Abuela Astella said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Cas said because there was no lying to Abuela Astella. “But it's almost over. It's been, like, three days since it started.”

Abuela Astella snorted. “You are a risk taker,” she said.

Cas raised an eyebrow, letting Dean load up the washer and put in the soap. “What do you mean?” he said. “What about you?”

“I am too old,” Abuela Astella said. “I am passed my childbearing years. There is nothing I need to worry about.” She gestured to herself. “Do you think this is enticing to anyone?”

Cas shrugged, not really in the position to answer that question but he sat down anyway, eager to have someone to talk to who wasn’t Dean after so long. He scooted his chair in closer to the table and leaned forward on his elbows.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I have Dean.”

Abuela Astella shrugged. “If you say so,” she said. “It’s your life.”

Cas smiled. That’s what he liked about Abuela Astella. She would give you her opinion and tell amazing stories but didn’t really care what you did with your life. You could make the worst decisions in the history of bad decisions and Abuela Astella would just watch you while smoking her joints. If you didn’t want her advice, she didn’t push it. And if you refused to listen, then it was no skin off her back. She didn’t force Cas to do anything.

“And besides your hormonal time of the month, what else has life thrown your way?” Abuela Astella asked.

“I talked with my family yesterday,” Cas said happily. “Things are getting a little better. We talked about what we could do and stuff.”

“Good, good,” Abuela Astella said. “There are things that cannot be replaced in life and one of those things are blood family.”

Cas liked hearing that, liked hearing that he had done something good. “How have you been?” he asked even though Abuela Astella hardly ever gave him a straight answer.

“I am alive,” she said, as cryptic as always. “And I have not died.”

“That’s good,” Cas said.

Abuela Astella nodded and reached down into the bag she always kept by her feet. She rummaged around for a moment before pulling out one of the paper joints she always had, stuffing it between her lips before pulling out a lighter. She had to snap it a couple time before getting a steady flame and successfully lighting the tip. She puffed a couple times to get it going before pocketing the lighter.

Cas watched this ritual. It was something she did every day. She never explained what it was or what she was smoking, but Cas took a wild guess and figured it was some sort of drug. Abuela Astella did the entire ritual with a certain finesse that she managed even with one hand. Once she had the joint firmly pressed between her lips, she turned back to the conversation.

“You still in that shitty apartment?” she asked.

Cas nodded. “I can’t really move out,” he said. “I don’t have the money. And not every place will take Dean.”

Abuela Astella raised an eyebrow at Dean. Like always, he chose a seat in the corner and avoided their conversation. He didn’t seem to like Abuela Astella as much as Cas did. Then again, he could just be respectful of their private conversation.

Abuela Astella tapped the side of her nose and gestured to Dean. “If you have a disability, you can get money,” she said and shrugged. “I get money all the time.”

Cas knew better than to mention her arm at this point. Instead, he looked at Dean along with her. “I can get money because of Dean?” he said.

“You can get money because of why you need Dean,” Abuela Astella said. “If you cannot work, or you have trouble working, then the government will send you checks in the mail so you can live.”

“But it's not that I _can't_ work,” Cas said. “I guess it's just. . . . I've never really tried.”

Abuela Astella shrugged. “So you lie,” she said. “Sometimes, the way to solve a problem, is to be tricky. My _niños encantadores_ are tricky and cunning and know how to sneak extra cookies from the jar. I know how to be cunning and tricky and get what I want.” She took the joint out of her mouth and waved it. “How are you tricky and cunning?”

Tricky and cunning? Cas thought it over. He was most definitely not tricky and cunning. He couldn't smell and therefore was horrible at reading people. When they could read him a million times easier than he could read them, he had a horrible disadvantage. He could hardly ever lie to Gabe and hell knows he could never lie to Dean. Tricky and cunning?

“What do you mean?” he asked, immediately intrigued by the idea.

“I mean,” Abuela Astella said, flexing her elbow at him. “You do whatever you can to stay alive and you do whatever you can to keep the ones you love alive. _Sí_?”

Cas thought it over, thought about what that could mean. Doing anything? Literally anything?! Cas could imagine moving the world for Dean. Cas could imagine moving the world for Dean and Sam. Cas could imagine moving the world for Gabe even. How would he move the world? How was he supposed to do something that big?

“And you and I are special,” Abuela Astella said. “ _Especial_. _Muy especial._ Because you see.” She raised her arm, the one that ended at the elbow and used her other hand to take her joint out of her mouth. “People don't think we can do _shit_.” Abuela Astella grinned evilly. “Use that to your advantage, _Chico_.”

“What do you mean?” Cas said.

Abuela Astella threw her hand in the air and then sucked the joint back in her mouth. “You don't have an evil bone in your body, do you, _Chico_?” she said. “Have you ever done anything mean?”

Cas hung his head. He knew his past. Abuela Astella didn't. She didn't know what he had done. “Yeah,” he said, not looking over at Dean. “I have.”

Abuela Astella pulled on the joint for a moment, studying him with her hard grey eyes. Cas couldn't look up. Abuela Astella had the ability to stare into him if she wanted, and sometimes, Cas didn't like that feeling. So he started down at his lap, letting the seconds tick on until Abuela Astella finally broke the silence.

“You let me have my secrets, I'll let you have yours,” she said. “You can choose if you want to share it not. It is none of my business.”

Cas swallowed and went back to studying Dean, his hunched shoulders and his slightly vacant stare as his picked at the peeling linoleum of his table. If Cas didn’t know better, he would have thought that Dean wasn’t listening to their conversation at all. But Cas knew better. Dean was most likely listening, just not showing it.

“You are the strangest omega I have ever met,” Abuela Astella said.

Cas had gotten that before. People thinking he was strange wasn’t anything new. A chime from the washing machines interrupted the conversation, meaning that his laundry was done.

Without prompting, Dean got to his feet. “I got it,” he said. “You can stay.”

Cas gave him the money but couldn’t help but crane his neck to make sure Dean put the clothes in the right machine. A moment later, the dryer hummed on and Dean returned to his seat.

Abuela took a couple more puffs on her joint, blowing smoke rings into the air above her head. Cas liked watching them float and slowly dissolve into nothing, only to have a new ring float up a moment later. It was a skill that Cas kinda wished he had.

“Have you ever done something crazy to keep the ones you love alive?” Cas asked. He wasn’t really expecting an answer. Abuela Astella usually didn’t talk about the details of her life especially ones as personal as that, but to his surprise, she leaned forward in her seat, taking a long drag on her joint and blowing the smoke out in one long stream.

“I have,” she said. “I have done some _loca_ , _loca_ things for the ones I love. Sometimes, it is necessary. Sometimes, you have to take a hit for someone you love. Sometimes you break the rules for someone you love.”

“You've done that?” Cas asked.

Abuela Astella nodded sagely and took several short puffs on her joint. “This body,” she said, gesturing with her elbow. “It’s not just the outside that has been hurt.” She propped her joint in the corner of her mouth and place her hand over her heart. “Sometimes the hurt is something you can’t see. Something that people don’t notice until all of you is hurting.”

“All of you?” Cas said quietly.

Now it was Abuela Astella’s turn not to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cherry end tip of her joint. She then reached up and tapped her head. “All of you,” she repeated. “All of you hurts.”

Cas nodded because he could understand that. He could understand pain, and Dean could probably understand that too.

“What do you do when all of you hurts?” Cas couldn’t help but ask. Again, he wasn’t expecting an answer, but Abuela Astella surprised him.

She took her joint out of her mouth and offered it to him with a raise of her eyebrows. “This is what I do,” she said. “Some people drink. Some people find as many people as they can to love them. Some people die.”

Cas gulped and took the joint from her, putting it in between his lips and breathing in. He could see the cherry tip flare red in front of his nose and he could feel the way the smoke filtered into his lungs. He coughed, pulling the joint away and passing it back to Abuela Astella.

She took it from his with a knowing smile, watching impassively as he doubled over with the coughing fit. She took a long pull of her own as Dean jumped up from his seat to rush to Cas’s side. Dean shot Abuela Astella a warning look, but Cas pushed aside his worrying.

“I’m fine,” he managed to choke out. “I promise, I’m fine.”

Dean scented him but then reluctantly backed down and returned to his seat, sulking a little. He didn’t look at Cas.

“I guess this isn’t for you,” Abuela Astella said, continuing to puff on the joint without a single flinch or a cough. “You will have to find something else.”

Cas sighed, finally recovering and catching his breath. He wasn’t sure he wanted something. Well, he wanted to feel better. He wanted something that made him feel better. Did that have to be smoking? Or drinking? Or . . . . Or whatever else people did? Abuela Astella was constantly smoking the joints, always had one in hand. Cas wanted something more permanent.

Not something that would disappear in a couple years. Or something that would make _him_ disappear in a couple years.

What did you do when all of you hurt?

It sounded like a childhood riddle, one that Cas would probably never find the answer to. It sounded like a trick, a scam that people bought into when people got desperate. Cas could almost laugh out loud at that. He was pretty damn desperate at this point.

Cas looked to Dean, nervous when he didn’t look up. Had he somehow made Dean angry at him? Brushing off his care when Dean just wanted to help? Of course, Abuela Astella didn’t seem to notice the exchange. She was too busy blowing smoke rings into the air again. And then her attention was drawn away from that when her washing machine beeped, signaling it was done.

Cas knew better than to offer to help her now so he sat and waited for her to pay for a dryer and return to the table.

“You okay?” he asked Dean, wondering if he could do anything to make Dean feel better.

“I’m good,” Dean said, glancing at him and then back down at his hands.

“You’re not hungry, are you?” Cas asked. “Because we can go get something if you want. We don’t have to stay here to wait for the clothes.”

Dean was shaking his head halfway through Cas’s offer. “No, no, I’m fine,” he said. “We can wait for the laundry and then eat back at the apartment.”

Cas frowned, but Abuela Astella was returning to the table then, and he didn’t get a chance to press the issue. She was just settling down when the click of another machine sounded, meaning that his clothes were done drying and it was time to go. Abuela Astella must’ve noticed his hesitation because she waved her hand at him.

“Go,” she said. “I know you must be busy.”

“I’ll see you again soon though,” Cas said as Dean quickly moved to unload the machine himself. “We’ll probably be back.”

Abuela Astella gestured to the space. “And I’ll be here,” she said. “Do not think that I’ll be going anywhere.”

Cas nodded and turned, finding Dean already ready and waiting with the bags of laundry. He stood by the door, respectfully staring down at his feet. Cas really didn’t want to make him wait too long so he finished his goodbye with Abuela Astella and held the door open for Dean so they could walk out.

“How are you doing?” Cas asked as they started their walk back to the apartment.

Dean shrugged. “I’m doing fine,” he said.

Cas frowned at that. Mostly because he was almost pretty sure Dean was lying. He couldn’t smell the lie, but Dean still wouldn’t look at him.

“I mean _really_ ,” he said. “How do you really feel?”

Now Dean looked at him, raising his eyebrow and cocking his head. “What do you mean?” he said.

Cas shrugged. “I don't know,” he said and then shook his head. He _did_ know. “You were just acting a little weird in the laundromat, around Abuela Astella. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Dean dropped his gaze again, staring at his shoes as they walked. “I'm just worried,” he finally said. “Worried about Sam.” His voice dropped low, and Cas almost didn't hear him. “Haven't talked with him in a while.”

“We can call,” Cas said, feeling horrible at forgetting his promise to Sam and Gabe. “Gabe and I talked when you were gone yesterday and we agreed that you and Sam could talk the next time we called.”

Dean's gaze snapped up, and he studied Can intently, green eyes boring into him. “You never mentioned a phone call,” was all he said.

“Sorry,” Cas said earnestly. “I forgot I guess. But once we get back to the apartment we can definitely call.”

Dean immediately brightened at that, picking up his speed so that Cas had to hurry to keep up. “We gotta get home then,” Dean said. “Fast. It's lunchtime anyway and you should eat.”

Cas smiled at his enthusiasm, glad he had finally done something right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey,,, so, sorry this took forever ;A; and I /know/ this chapter isn't a lot, words have been coming slow for me (it probably doesn't help that I started three new stories, I am an idiot) 
> 
> And, of course, there is life, and work, and stuff, and ah! Anyway, another chapter down and this story continues! ^0^ apologies for taking forever


	14. A Fine Day

Sam was grateful for the night of rest after the trip to the hospital. Gabe even gave him a mouthful of a sweet liquid that he said would help him sleep. And it had. Sam didn’t remember tossing or turning at all. He didn’t even remember dreaming.

He yawned and stretched and automatically scented for Gabe, finding him easily across the room. Sam was getting better at not panicking when Gabe wasn’t constantly in the bed. He smiled to himself, proud that he could roll over into the spot where Gabe had slept without pitching a fit.

“You awake?” Gabe said.

Sam shoved his face into the pillows to hide his smile. Maybe he could get away with sleeping in a couple more minutes.

“Sam, I _know_ you’re awake,” Gabe said. “I can smell you.”

Knowing better than to argue after that, Sam rolled over and sat up. He stretched and yawned and scented for both Gabe and breakfast. They had been eating in bed nearly every day and Sam loved it.

“And you’re getting out of bed for breakfast,” Gabe added, as if reading his mind.

Sam sighed in disappointment but obediently rolled over, feeling for the edge of the bed before sliding out, shivering as his feet touched the cold floor. He didn’t stand up though. He waited until Gabe took his hand and pulled him up. Sam still didn’t like navigating rooms only by scent.

“Come on,” Gabe said, pulling him away from the bed.

To Sam’s dismay, they stopped by the bathroom like they did every morning. He never had the energy to clean himself and he never wanted too. Besides, he never smelled bad or anything. But Gabe pushed him into the shower after undressing him, turning on the water and making sure it wasn’t too cold.

He pressed a washcloth into Sam’s hands and started scrubbing himself too. Sam knew better than to flinch at the touch of his mate but when Gabe’s washcloth dipped between his legs and scrubbed his inner thighs, he couldn’t help but shiver and shudder. But Gabe was always done quickly, moving on to wash another part of Sam. They finished with shampoo, conditioner, and a thorough rinse.

Sam sat obediently on the toilet while Gabe ran a comb through his hair, a towel draped over his lap while he waited for clothes.

“We have to make sure you look good today,” Gabe said. “We’re going to go to one of the daycares that the doctor recommended. You remember Dr. Tran?”

Sam nodded. He did.

“Well, we’re going to try what she suggested,” Gabe went on, patting Sam’s hair a bit more dry with a towel. “You’re going to spend a little time at a daycare today, okay?”

Sam chewed his lip nervously but didn’t protest. Like a good mate.

“I know you’re nervous,” Gabe said, setting the comb aside and moving to the other side of the bathroom. “But you’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen to you. I called the place last night and had a very long talk. You will be fine.”

He returned to Sam’s side and took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

Sam was happy to have the same style t-shirt and sweatpants like yesterday. They were soft and smelled slightly like Gabe, and Sam liked that. He even held still as Gabe clipped on his collar and leash like yesterday. He tried to sneak a kiss when Gabe attached the blindfold, but Gabe pushed away his mouth with a laugh.

“Don’t distract me,” he chided, but he smelled like happiness and teasing so Sam knew he wasn’t in trouble.

“Fine,” Sam said, shyly smiling back.

“We have an appointment to make,” Gabe said, giving him a soft tug on his leash. “Let's go.”

The car ride to the daycare was like every other car ride Sam was used to. With his eyes closed, there were no windows to look out of and no sights to see. It was boring and uneventful, except for the fact that Sam got to sit next to Gabe super close, hold his hand, and scent him as many times as Sam wanted. That was the best part of the car ride, and then it was over.

The building they entered after the car pulled to a stop smelled strongly of alpha which was both comforting and off putting. The only other place that smelled so much like alpha had been the training facility where he and Dean had been kept and the sleeping area he had had at the restaurant. This place, though, didn’t necessarily smell _bad_. But it also didn’t make Sam feel safe. He was able to pick out a lone beta, probably sitting behind a counter.

“I have an appointment,” Gabe said, talking presumably to them. “For Sam and Gabe.”

“Oh, of course!” a male voice said and he began typing on a computer. “Ah, yes, here you are. Hello, Sam, welcome to daycare!”

Sam slid so he was partially behind Gabe, a little scared of the unknown beta and worried about why he was being so friendly.

“You don’t have to be shy,” Gabe said but didn’t make him move.

“There is just a couple forms I need to fill out for you,” the beta went on, back to typing at the computer. “Does Sam have any dietary concerns we need to be aware of?”

“No,” Gabe said.

“Excellent. When was his last rut?”

“Last week.”

“Has Sam tried to mount anything outside his rut before?”

“Definitely not.”

“And is there any problems with aggression or biting?”

“Of course not.” Gabe sounded a little offended at that last question.

“Perfect, that’s everything I need,” the beta said, choosing to ignore Gabe’s snappish answers. He typed for a little bit longer and then then finally stopped. “Alright, Sam is ready to stay here for however long you need. Meals will be charged to your account and other daily charges will be added as they arise.”

“Thank you,” Gabe said. “Ready, Sam?”

Sam honestly wasn’t. He was too nervous and didn’t want Gabe to leave, but he obediently followed the tug on his leash, walking down what must been a hallway into a separate room. The tile beneath his feet changed to carpet. The smell changed from alpha to . . . . even more alpha, eager and happy and excited.

“We take our shoes off here,” the beta said.

Sam let Gabe bend down and take his shoes off for him, setting them somewhere Sam didn’t know.

“And you can hang his leash up here,” the beta directed.

Sam felt his breath hitch as the leash clicked off and he instinctively reached out, feeling for Gabe with a sense of panic. Gabe caught his hand in his own, curling their fingers together, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

“Alright, Sam,” the beta said. “Do you want to go into the area? Tell Gabe goodbye?”

Sam _definitely_ didn’t want to say goodbye to Gabe but his mate was nudging him forward, into a room much warmer than the lobby and smelling like vanilla and alpha.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Gabe promised.

And just like that, Sam was alone.

Well, not alone. The beta pressed a hand against his back, moving him forward to a place that Sam couldn’t see, didn’t want to see. He was scared he was going to trip on something. This room was foreign to him. He didn’t know where everything was or if he was going to run into something.

“Alright, Sam,” the beta said, pushing him gently downwards until Sam sunk obediently to his knees. “This is Eileen. You can spend the day with her.” He patted the top of Sam’s head, like he was a dog. “She’s the only one in the room, so you don’t have to worry about anyone else.” He walked away then, leaving Sam with this new, mysterious person.

“Hello,” Eileen said, finally speaking once the beta was gone. Her voice had a strange lilt to it, like the words curled out of her mouth instead of falling straight off her tongue.

Sam cocked his head, scenting the air. “Hello,” he repeated. She was an alpha, calm and certainly not panicked.

“I’m Eileen,” she said.

Sam liked the way she said her name, extra curly. “I’m Sam,” he said.  

“Do you have no eyes?” Eileen asked.

Sam quickly shook his head. “No, I can see,” he said, not wanting Eileen to think that his mate was bad or mean. Gabe was the opposite. “What’s wrong with your voice?” There wasn’t anything _wrong_. Sam felt bad for asking. He just didn’t want the conversation to be about him anymore.

“I can’t hear,” Eileen said. “Not very well. I read lips.”

Sam immediately felt self-conscious knowing that she was staring at his lips. He had the urge to cover his mouth but figured that would be rude and how else would they talk then? So he kept his hands folded politely in his lap.

“My omega hit me a lot,” Eileen went on so matter-of-factly. “And one time, he hit my head very hard.”

Sam felt his stomach twist. “Recently?” he asked, mind immediately flashing back to the playroom, to Lucifer, to the _pain_. He shuddered, hands twitching. He wanted to tear at something. His wrists were tempting. So was his face.

“No, a long time ago,” Eileen said, still casual and easy. Like she didn’t care about what she was talking about, like it meant nothing to her. “Which is why my voice is weird.”

Sam folded his hands tightly, trying to ignore the shaking. “Oh,” he said, not really sure what else he could say to something like that.

“And what did your omega do to you?” Eileen said.

“Nothing!” Sam immediately said. “He did nothing!” Sam flinched when a hand settled on his own, gently squeezing his fingers in support.

“We aren’t here because we are okay,” she said. “I’m not stupid.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “It wasn’t my omega,” he said and then sighed. “It was _an_ omega, my omega’s brother. I think. I didn’t know who he was.”

Eileen’s hands were on his face so suddenly that Sam didn’t get a chance to react. They were deft and nimble and were undoing the straps of his blindfold before he could react. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the blindfold fell away, and then he reached up to cover his eyes too.

“Why don’t you want to open your eyes?” Eileen asked plainly.

“Don’t want to see,” Sam mumbled. “Too much. Too bright. Don’t want to see.”

“Well, it’s just you and me here,” Eileen said. “I promise. The betas leave us alone unless its meal time or we need the bathroom. And the lights aren’t bright. No bright colors.”

Sam took a shaky breath. How else did he explain to Eileen that scenting things were fine for him? He didn’t need anything else. He scented the air now just to prove his point. Eileen smelled like concern and care, a wonderful mix that reminded Sam of fresh laundry.

Cautiously, he returned his hands to his lap and took another shaky breath.

He peeked.

True to Eileen’s word, the room was dimly lit, painted with muted colors, and completely, decidedly _not_ overwhelming. Sam reluctantly opened his eyes completely, taking in it all and clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from tearing at his skin. His nails dug into the skin of his palm in a calming sort of pain.

And then he turned to Eileen, seeing someone for the first time in _days_.

Eileen was cute in a way that only an alpha could be. She had a round face and dark hair that tumbled down her shoulders. Dark eyes that matched her dark hair twinkled with a mischief that Sam had yet to see in an alpha. She gave him a smile, a genuine, honest-to-god smile that made Sam’s heart skip a beat and his felt his cheeks go hot like they usually did with Gabe.

“Better?” she asked.

Her mouth curled the same way her words did, the ends going up in a way that stretched out her smile even more. Sam couldn’t help but stare at her mouth, probably how she was staring at his own mouth. Sam had to tear himself away and look at her eyes.

“Woah,” he said.

Eileen’s cheeks went pink and she quickly looked away, her scent going embarrassed. “Stop it,” she said.

Sam cocked his head, not sure what he was doing so he looked away, studying the room more.

Toy bins were spread throughout the space. Not toy bins like Sam was used to, with toys that were shoved into him or used on him. These bins had real toys like trucks and building blocks, no dolls from what Sam could see, but otherwise just normal, kid toys. Eileen had been working on a puzzle when he had arrived apparently because the pieces were spread around her, half put together to show the beginnings of a puppy and kitten cuddling together. Cute.

And then his eyes were drawn back to Eileen's face, taking in the pink flush of her cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to permanently twinkle. So alpha.

“You have very pretty eyes,” she said. “You shouldn’t cover them up.”

Sam looked down at his lap self-consciously. “My mate doesn’t like that I cover them either,” he admitted shyly. Just saying that made him want to cover up all over again.

“You shouldn’t,” Eileen said. “I think you’ll miss too much if you never open your eyes.”

“Like what?” Sam couldn’t help but blurt out, not daring to look up and see the disappoint on her face.

Eileen didn’t say anything, and Sam realized—stupidly—that if he didn’t look up at her, she couldn’t see his lips and couldn’t hear him otherwise. So he sheepishly looked up and had to repeat what he had said before.

“Everything,” Eileen said with an easy smile.

Everything. Sam didn’t think about it like that. He figured he would be able to experience everything in a different way. Denying himself one sense didn’t seem like such a big deal when he had other senses. Why did he need to see when he could smell? And then he looked at Eileen.

Someone who didn’t have one of their senses not by choice but by force.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t . . . . mean. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Eileen shook her head. “I get it,” she said. “Sometimes, I think life is easier when I can’t hear when my omega yells at me. I can’t hear when I make a mistake.” She sighed. “Sometimes I can pretend I am stupid and my omega won’t think I’m worth the time.”

Sam nodded. While he hated not being able to take care of his mate to the best of his ability, having an easy excuse as to why he couldn’t do certain things was always nice. Like when he couldn’t wash himself and Gabe had to do it for him. Or like when he couldn’t eat his food and Gabe had to help him with that too.

And then Sam realized how stupid that was. No, he shouldn’t be so helpless to make his mate take care of him like he was a kit. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no! I shouldn’t be helpless!”

He snatched up his blindfold, pressing it over his eyes and fumbling with the clasp. He pulled it extra tight, relieved at the way it blocked out light in a way his hands couldn’t. Still, he pressed his hands over the blindfold too, just to be extra careful.

He was just in time too, because the door opened just then and Sam smelled the beta from the front desk walk into the room.  
  
“Good to see you two are getting along,” he said. “I brought snacks. I hope you guys are hungry.”

Eileen wasn’t able to say anything about Sam’s actions without getting him in trouble and even she knew to keep her mouth shut. So they sat quietly and obediently as the beta set down whatever he was carrying and began unwrapping packages.

“Here you are, Sam,” he said, pressing a containing and utensil into his hands. “Spoon and applesauce. Gabe mentioned you would be better with soft food items.” He rummaged a little more. “And I have your favorite for you, Eileen, peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies! Juice boxes for everyone, as always.”

Sam was able to get a spoonful of applesauce into his mouth without any help from the beta. He was proud, for a moment, until he needed help punching the small plastic straw into the juice box. The beta sat with them as they ate, meaning they couldn’t talk about what they had been talking about before.

“Huh, Sam, how are you doing?” the beta asked. “You aren’t crying, so that’s good.” He laughed and patted Sam on the knee.

Sam didn’t flinch away. He nodded but didn’t say anything, stuffing a particularly big bite of applesauce into his mouth to be an excuse. That only made the beta laugh again.

“No need to rush,” he said. “It’s not going anywhere.”

And, apparently, neither was the beta. He sat there with them as they ate, chatting occasionally about different things, asking about what they were playing. He helped Eileen with a couple puzzle pieces and helped Sam find his juice box when he set it down. He sat with them the entire time until they were finished eating.

And then he gathered up all their garbage and, after a quick trip out of the room, he returned saying that it was nap time and that they should put away their toys. He let Eileen keep her puzzle out but under his watchful eye, Eileen picked up the few blocks and toys that had been taken out at some point.

The beta helped Sam to his feet and then directed him across the room, helping him settle down on a cot with a thin mattress and thick blankets.

“Do you want a stuffed friend to sleep with?” the beta asked. “Huh, Sam? You wanna stuffed friend?”

Sam wasn’t really sure what a ‘stuffed friend’ was until the beta nudged a stuffed animal into his hands, the faux fur soft and the stuffing squishy.

“Go on,” the beta said. “You can smell it.”

Sam brought it to his nose and took a deep breath, immediately breaking out into a huge smile. Gabe! It smelled like Gabe! He scented it again, nuzzling his face into the stuffed animal to breathe in as much of Gabe’s scent as possible.

“I thought you would like that,” the beta said. “Come on, lay down and take a nap.”

Sam gratefully curled up on his side, sitting still long enough to let the beta tuck a blanket over his shoulders and make sure his pillows were where they were supposed to be. Sam was too busy scenting the stuffed animal to care. He held it tight and close, cherishing the small bit of home and familiarity that it brought him.

He was vaguely aware that Eileen was settled into a cot next to his but Sam blocked that out, focusing on Gabe even as the beta wished them sweet dreams and clicked off the lights.

Or, at least, Sam thought he clicked off the lights. He didn’t really know. His entire world was already dark and with his senses full of Gabe, Sam didn’t really care about anything else. And that’s how he fell fast asleep.

 


	15. Figure Stuff Out

Dean watched Cas fiddle with his phone, typing things that Dean didn’t understand and swiping through different pages. Cas had promised that they could call Gabe and Sam and now he was fulfilling that promise. Dean fidgeting, eager to hear Sam’s voice after so long.

Finally, Cas brought the phone up to his ear, giving Dean a nod. Dean could hear the phone ringing and waited anxiously. Would Gabe pick up? Would he be able to talk to Sam? Dean’s skin crawled at the thought of Sam being with Gabe without him around. Dean didn’t trust that slimy omega more than he trusted the alphas outside not to rape Cas.

And then Cas was talking before Dean could finish that thought.

“Hey, Gabe, It’s me.” Pause. “Sorry, I know you know. I’m here with Dean. I told him that he could talk to Sam.” Pause. “Oh, good. Everything went okay then?”

Dean fidgeted and whined, and Cas seemed to remember he was there.

“I was wondering if Dean could talk to Sam,” he repeated.

There was a very long pause that made Dean very nervous, scared that Gabe would refuse to let them talk. It was something that Gabe would do, being the omega and all. But then Cas was thanking him and offering the phone to Dean.

Dean grabbed it quickly, bringing it to his ear. He was terrified to speak for a moment, terrified that Sam wouldn’t be there and that it would all be a joke. He swallowed thickly and finally found his voice.

“Sam?” he asked.

“Dean!” Sam said, his voice coming through the earpiece so clearly that it startled Dean.

He brought his hands up to his mouth and bit into the flesh of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. He ended up choking out a half-sob, tears welling up in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks without his meaning to. It just hurt so damn much.

“Sam,” he said again. “Oh god, I haven’t heard you in forever.”

“Dean!” Sam was chanting. “Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean!”

“Sam, are you okay? Is Gabe—are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine!”

Sam didn’t sound fine. Dean could tell even through the phone. Sam didn’t just repeat stuff like a broken wind-up toy. Sam carried on conversations like a normal person and right now, he just didn’t sound like a normal person. Dean squeezed the phone hard, threatening to crush it before remembering himself.

“Um, how are things at the house?” Dean tried. He wasn’t sure how to get true information out of Sam if both Cas and Gabe were listening from either end of the phone. Sam couldn’t just say things were shit if Gabe was sitting right next to him.

“It’s fine!” Sam said cheerfully. “Gabe—he makes sure I’m okay. He’s a good mate.”

That just sounded like Gabe was holding a knife to Sam’s throat, forcing him to say good things. Making him lie. That idea made Dean uneasy. All he could picture was Gabe putting his hands on Sam, touching him in a way that Sam didn’t want but was forced to endure, touching Sam in a way that made Dean’s skin crawl.

Dean turned his back to Cas, hunching over the phone and bringing a hand up to cover the mouthpiece so he could whisper in relative privacy.

“Sam, please, tell me the truth, how is Gabe? He isn’t hurting you, is he? Answer yes and no. Sam, I need to know the truth, okay? Is Gabe treating you okay?”

There was a long pause, longer than Dean was comfortable with. He didn’t like that Sam had to take a while just to answer a yes or no question.

“Yes,” Sam finally said. “Yes, everything’s great. It’s not the . . . . . first thing. There’s a second thing. But I’m fine.”

Dean frowned. Second thing? What second thing? Gabe was obviously the first thing that Sam was talking about, and Dean wracked his brain to think of what else the second thing would be. Someone they knew?

“Is it someone we know?” he asked. “Is the second thing someone we know?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I’m fine.”

Dean felt a knot tie itself in his throat. “Luci?” he whispered. “Lucifer?”

“Yeah,” Sam repeated. “I’m fine.”

Oh, fuck, Dean would rip the omega apart. Once he got his hands on that damned fucking omega from the very pits of hell, Dean would rip into him and tear out his heart. If he even had a heart. Dean knew that he was bad news the moment he walked in the door all those days ago and he regretted leaving Sam all alone to deal with him. Dean should have stayed and fought to protect him, not following Cas’s instructions to go to the store.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to leave you. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, okay? I want to come get you. If I could, I would in a heartbeat.”

“You didn’t mean to, I know that,” Sam said, his voice dropping down quieter. “It’s been . . . . strange, I guess, here. Okay but strange.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Strange?” he said. “Sam, are you hurt? Answer yes or no.”

“No.”

“Sam,” Dean said sternly.

“I mean it,” Sam said. “How are _you_?”

“Great,” Dean said. “There’s no need for you to worry about me.”

“And you don’t have to worry about me,” Sam said.

Dean desperately wanted to argue that point but Cas was already giving him strange looks. He wasn’t sure how much more time he had on the phone, and Cas was already being generous in letting him talk for as long as he had.

“I promise to come back for you,” Dean said, dropping his voice even lower so that Cas couldn’t hear the rage or the vow he made. “I promise I will because I’m not going to leave you in that house by yourself, okay?”

“I’m not alone,” Sam said. “I have my mate. And the second thing will soon be gone too.”

Dean felt his heart jump in his chest. Luci would soon be gone?! If Gabe was treating Sam better as a mate, maybe Sam would be okay at the house. But he would only be okay if Luci left, that damned fucking omega. Dean found himself gripping the couch cushion harder that he realized and forced himself to relax.

“Okay,” he said. “At least that’s good. Call me when that’s gone. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam said, because that’s what Sam always seemed to say even if he wasn’t.

Dean wasn’t really in a position to argue that point on the moment at the moment because as soon as Sam said that, there was a shuffling on his end of the phone. And then, apparently, Sam was gone because the next thing Dean knew, Gabe was on the line.

“Cas? Cas, are you there?” he was asking.

Quickly, Dean passed the phone over to Cas. “It’s Gabe,” he muttered before quickly standing and hurrying to the bathroom.

He didn’t like himself for getting choked up. He stared himself down in the mirror, glaring at the red rims of his eyes, the unshed tears and the flushed splotches of his cheeks. It made him look like he was a child, like a kit who had gotten its toy taken away.

Dean glared at his reflection, gripping the counter harder than necessary.

He listened to Cas quietly talking with Gabe, listening to the half of the conversation he could hear at least. It sounded so common and in place. Not the hushed, cautious whispers that he and Sam had talked in. Cas and Gabe had the freedom to talk in their normal voices.

“Yes, I’m trying out different things,” Cas was saying.

Dean couldn’t hear Gabe’s response. He imagined it was something stupid, something that only an omega from the laps of luxury could say, stupid and small minded.

“I’ve thought about that too,” Cas said in response to whatever Gabe had said. “Dean and I tried to—no, you don’t understand, we got through it _fine_.”

Another pause. This time, it was much longer than the one before. Cas’s scent shifted from relaxed to stressed, anxious, and on edge. Dean scowled at the urge to leave the bathroom and comfort him. The sudden drive made him feel even more like a heartbroken child. He clenched the edge of the bathroom counter tighter and refused to let himself move.

“No, no, Dean is doing okay,” Cas said. “And I completely understand. Sam sounds great too. I’m glad you found that place. It sounds absolutely perfect.”

Another pause, much shorter than before.

“And Sam is doing better, right?” Cas said. His voice dropped down much quieter than before, and Dean had to strain to pick up the words. “Dean didn’t sound so good talking to him. I just wanted to be sure.”

Dean’s stomach twisted at the pause that followed. He hated that he couldn’t hear Gabe’s answer and that twisted his stomach up even more than before.

With a lurch, he moved over to the toilet and clutched at the bowl as his stomach emptied itself. It burned coming up, burned like the tears on his cheeks. He heaved several times before his body was satisfied with what it had gotten rid of and let him collapse back, his ass hitting his heels. Dean wiped his mouth on the back of hand and spit into the toilet water to get rid of the acid burn.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” Cas said. “Um, I think I need to go. No, nothing bad just—just Dean.”

Just Dean.

Dean heaved into the toilet again, twice more with nothing but saliva coming up. He wadded up a fistful of toilet paper and wiped his mouth, tossing it into the water to join the contents of his stomach. Quickly, he flushed it and pushed himself to his feet.

He moved to the sink, ripping the water on and scooping a handful of water, gargling and spitting. He turned just in time to see Cas in the doorway of the bathroom, looking at him with a sort of pity that made Dean hate himself even more.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas said, the pity even more obvious in his voice if his scent wasn’t a dead giveaway.

The way he said it was so like an omega.

Oh, Dean. Like he had spilled his water onto the counter.

Oh, Dean. Like he had brought home an animal he wasn’t supposed to have.

Oh, Dean. Like he was an alpha who didn’t know any better and had made a mess of himself while Cas hadn’t been watching.

Well, that was true. Dean looked down at his feet, chewing his lip. He looked down at the sink and then back at the toilet. While he had cleaned up the best he could in the moments before Cas had arrived, it was obvious he hadn’t just been sitting in the bathroom minding his own business. It was obvious that he had been crying.

Dean felt like shit.

“Um, I’m pretty sure there’s ice cream in the freezer,” Cas said. “I had you buy it while I was on my heat but I only ate, like, half. If you want, we could share the rest? Sugar sometimes helps.”

Dean didn’t look up from his feet but he did nod, letting Cas lead him out of the bathroom and back to the living room. Cas set him down on the couch, and Dean turned his head so he didn’t have to stare at the phone that was sitting on the arm of the couch across from him. Cas moved quickly into the kitchen. Dishes and utensils clattered as Cas worked and then finally the suction-y pull of the freezer door being opened. In a couple moments, just like that, Cas was plopping down on the couch next to Dean, plopping a bowl into his lap as well.

“Eat up,” Cas said, digging into his own bowl with a gusto Dean hadn’t seen in him in several days. He shoved ice cream into his mouth by the heaping spoonful.

Dean followed suit, unable to muster as much enthusiasm as Cas. The ice cream was cold and sweet and slipped down his throat without his having to swallow too much. It was awkward, but the more Dean ate, the more it grew on him, becoming more and more like the comfort food Cas had described it to be.

The chocolate chunks were nice. The peanut butter swirls were even better. When Dean ran into a chunk of cookie dough that he had to dig out of the ice cream with his spoon like some sort of cave man, he decided he was feeling sort of better.   

“We’ll work through it,” Cas mumbled around his mouthful of ice cream. “I swear we will.”

Dean nodded, stuffing more ice cream into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to answer out loud.

“And we’ll. . . . . figure stuff out,” Cas said. “Everything. We’ll figure everything out. That’s what I’ve done before so we’ll just have to do it again.”

Cas made it sound so easy, like the entire world wasn’t currently working against them. It wasn’t like Dean was in any position to disagree but he couldn’t believe Cas entirely either. It was too good to be true, and Dean knew better than to believe things that were too good to be true.

He ate his ice cream in silence and let Cas continue talking.  

 


	16. Forced to Give (But Always Fine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a heads up for everyone: I changed the warnings of the story, because this chapter is explicit non-con and rape. Check the new tags too. 
> 
> Sam doesn't want this at all, and Lucifer has no right to do this to him

Sam wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he and Gabe got home. Maybe something good, because so far, today had been good. The day care had been fine. He had made a new friend. It had been kind of stressful but Sam had dealt with it. He had gotten to talk with Dean on the phone on the ride home. The day had been good so far, great even.

Sam wasn’t sure what he had been expecting.

Maybe something good when he got home. Maybe the chance to lay down and just cuddle with Gabe for several hours and then skip dinner altogether and cuddle some more.

But the scent of a distressed omega greeted them as soon as they entered the door, and Sam knew things wouldn't be going like he thought they would.

“Come on, Sweetheart!” Lucifer was yelling. “Don't be like that!”

There was the slap of bare feet on marble as the distressed omega stomped towards the door in a huff, the lingering scents of sex and arousal quickly fading. Anger and irritation joined the distress, making Sam's skin crawl. He didn't like it but knew much better than to try to step forward and do something.

“I can't believe you!” the new omega yelled. Female from the sounds of it, and angry. “You promise so much and you fall completely _short_!”

“Oh, now that's just insulting,” Lucifer said, his scent tongue-curling sour.

Sam shifted behind Gabe, doing his best to make himself small in an effort to avoid Lucifer's attention. He could smell him in the room now. The other omega must've stopped in the front doorway.

“Insulting?” she said. “You male omegas are all the same, claiming to be _this big_ and _this long_ and oh, you're gonna make me feel _so good_!”

“Oh yeah?” Lucifer said, smelling just as angry and more than a little embarrassed. “Well, you promised the same thing and guess what?! I faked three of those orgasms, Sweetheart!”

The omega scoffed and threw something, the crash making Sam flinch and duck further behind Gabe.

The omega actually laughed. “Bitch, I faked them all. _Bye_!”

The door slammed hard, and Sam reached instinctively for Gabe's hand, wanting some sort of comfort. Now that the omega was gone, whoever she had been, Lucifer was no longer distracted from Gabe and him. Sam shuddered to think of his cold blue eyes.

“Oh, Gabe,” Lucifer said, breathing harder than normal and still smelling like irritated embarrassment. “Good to see you home.”

“Hey,” Gabe said stiffly. He didn't mention that omega, which was probably for the best.

“I need your alpha,” Lucifer said. “That bitch didn't satisfy me and I need something more.”

Gabe stiffened, and Sam clutched at his hand, desperately wishing that he would say no, that they could go to their own bed. Sam didn't want to do anything but lie down and go to sleep and maybe cuddle Gabe. He definitely didn't want Lucifer touching him or doing anything to him. He whined, and Gabe squeezed his hand tight in return.

“Sam's had a long day,” Gabe said. “I was going to put him to bed and—”

“Ooo, Sam's had a long day,” Lucifer mocked, his voice high and whiny. “Shut up, he has one job and that's to take it up his ass without complaining. And he doesn't even do _that_ good. He's not tired, he's just being a bitch.”

The last word cut into Sam, making him hunch his shoulders and curl in on himself. It rang in his ears, playing over and over in his brain.

Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. That's what he was.

“Look, I'll make sure I don't break him this time,” Lucifer said. “Promise. Come on, you know brothers share their toys.”

Sam shuddered, easily imagining the shark-ish smile that he knew would be spreading across Lucifer’s face. His skin crawled and the urge to rip it off overtook Sam. He scratched idly at his wrist, dragging his nails from his palm up to his elbow, relishing in the tracks of quickly-fading pain they left. It wasn’t quite enough.

“Come here, princess,” Lucifer coaxed. “I bet you’d be really pretty with something to occupy your mouth.”

“Luci, come on,” Gabe said. “Why can’t you just leave him alone? He really is tired.”

“Don’t ‘Luci’ me,” Lucifer said. “And when did alphas become so fragile? You’re acting like sucking a cock is going to make him go belly up. He’s sucked cock before. He can suck cock again. More specifically, he can suck my cock again. Huh, Sammy-boy?”

Sam whined and let go of Gabe’s hand. He dropped smoothly to his knees, folding his hands neatly in the small of his back, and settling perfectly ass-on-heels, resting on the balls of his feet. With his blindfold, Sam couldn’t see where Lucifer was exactly but he took his best guess and faced that way. He tipped his head up, let his mouth drop open, and stuck out his tongue.

“Sam, get up,” Gabe hissed, nudging him with the toe of his shoe. “Get. _Up_.”

“Eager little thing, isn’t he,” Lucifer said, sounding and smelling smug. “See, I told you, Gabe.”

Cool fingers curled under Sam’s jaws, tipping his head even further back. Lucifer’s thumb dipped into his mouth, pressing his tongue down. His other fingers dug into the sensitive skin under Sam’s jaw, using that pain as a sort of guide to yank his entire head back and forth. Sam let him do what he wanted, keeping his muscles purposefully limp, though he wanted to bare his scent glands as sign of submission.

“Should we see if my lessons have stuck with you?” Lucifer asked.

Sam shivered at the memory of the whipping and beating. He didn’t move otherwise.

Lucifer laughed softly. “I think it did,” he said. “I just need him for tonight, Gabe. Tomorrow morning I’m leaving. Going back to my own place, you know? I have my own alphas to take care of too.”

Sam was starting to drool. With Lucifer’s fingers in his mouth, he couldn’t swallow.

“Alright,” Gabe said quietly. Sam didn’t like to hear his mate sounding so broken, but before he could do anything, Gabe was walking away, his scent receding, leaving Sam all alone with Lucifer.

“My brothers are so silly, huh?” Lucifer said, dragging his other hand through Sam’s hair and yanking at the strands. “Silly, silly brothers. I bet you know all about silly brothers, huh, bitch?”

Sam shuddered and closed his lips around Lucifer’s thumb, sucking on it, trying to appease him. It was also nice to get a chance to swallow the spit that had been collecting in his mouth.

“Come on, bitch,” Lucifer said, tugging Sam up by his hair, letting him climb to his feet without pulling on him too hard. “I’ve got some pent up frustration and you are a great outlet for that. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Sam didn’t say anything. He knew much better than to speak up or even make a noise in agreement or disagreement. He just went along quietly.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” Lucifer said, leading the way towards what Sam hoped was the bedroom. He hoped it wasn’t the playroom. “Hm? I bet I can make you feel ten times better than my brother.”

Sam shuddered when Lucifer’s hand went to his crotch, squeezing the cage covering his dick. Sam didn’t feel comfortable with that sort of contact but with Lucifer’s fingers still digging into his mouth and jaw, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Here we are,” Lucifer said, shoving Sam in front of him and swinging the door shut behind them with an ominous click.

Sam took the small moment of freedom to scent the room over, trying to figure out where Lucifer had led him and whether or not pain would be involved in the fucking. Sam let himself sigh when the room smelled predominantly of Lucifer instead of the rubber and silicone and fear of the playroom. It helped him relax for a moment, until Lucifer was touching him again.

“Bed,” Lucifer barked, shoving Sam down on the mattress. “And get out of those horrible clothes.”

Sam squirmed, rolling onto his back on the mattress. He started with his shirt, pulling it up over his head and choosing a random direction to toss it. Lucifer’s hands were immediately on his chest, squeezing and twisting and groping. Sam had to work around him to tug down his pants. He got them off his hips before Lucifer took over. Apparently he was too slow.

“Oh, honey,” Lucifer growled, sitting himself on Sam’s naked lap and going back to tweaking his chest and nipples. “So pretty all laid out for me.”

Sam whined and arched into his touch.

“So responsive,” Lucifer said, practically purring out the words.

All Sam could think about was his training. React. React. React. Unless your omega specifically tells you otherwise, an alpha was to react to every touch, no matter how small, no matter how gentle. React. Sam squeezed his eyes shut behind his blindfold and he forced out a moan when Lucifer ground his ass down on his dick even though he could feel nothing with the cage.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” Lucifer hissed, ripping open his jeans. He had to awkwardly get up to shove them off but Sam knew better then laugh or to even stop his act.

Sam gasped and moaned until Lucifer settled back down on top of him. The skin on skin contact made Sam want to tear his own skin off. He could have easily shoved Lucifer off. If he twisted his body and grabbed Lucifer around the throat and pinned him on the floor and god, fuck, Lucifer was shoving his legs open.

“Ready for this?” Lucifer said. He spat into his hand and then was shoving his fingers into Sam.

No. No, Sam wasn’t.

Lucifer’s fingers twisted inside of him, stretching him, and then suddenly they were gone. And Lucifer shoved into him in one go.

Sam gasped and moaned, keeping his hands up and out of the way. He let Lucifer do the work, gripping his hips and setting the—fast and punishing—pace. It was his job to react, to moan, to gasp and act like Lucifer was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Sam wasn’t prepared when Lucifer wrapped his hands around his throat, pressing his thumbs on either side of his windpipe and slowly applying pressure. That almost made Sam panic. Almost.

“Oh _fuck_ yeah,” Lucifer growled out, snapping his hips harder and faster.

Sam grunted, for real this time. He couldn’t get enough air and that was making him panic more and more. His fingers itched to shove Lucifer away but his training was reminding him to go limp and stay limp.

“Oh fuck, so tight for me, honey,” Lucifer said. “Oh fuck, yeah. Just what I needed.”

Sam couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe_!

Lucifer wouldn’t stop. He was going harder and harder and harder, forcing black spots into Sam’s vision and not letting him recover. Sam could feel his legs twitch with each thrust, his limbs slowly losing their coordination but wanting to thrash with survival instincts. His cheeks felt like they were bloating and his eyes felt like they were bulging.

And then Lucifer’s hands were gone, at least from his neck, and Sam sucked in a much needed breath of fresh air. Lucifer moaned as all of Sam’s muscles contracted and then relaxed involuntarily, and he paused in his fucking for once.

“I want you to look at me,” he said, fumbling with the straps on Sam’s blindfold and yanking it away. “I want you to look at me when I cum inside of you.”

Sam gasped and whined when the blindfold was yanked away and tossed across the room, clattering across the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, yelping when Lucifer slapped him hard across his face.

“I said look at me,” Lucifer growled out, fucking into him harder and harder, pulling almost completely out and thrusting completely back in each time. “Fucking look at me, alpha bitch.”

Sam closed his eyes and bit his lip. He kept his hands clenched in the sheets of the bed and his legs obediently open. Like a good alpha bitch. But he wouldn’t look at Lucifer. It was a small rebellion that Sam let himself have.

Lucifer was panting now, his thrusts shuddering becoming more sporadic. He was unravelling. Sam could tell. His hands were also back around Sam’s throat, gripping him tighter that before and yanking him back and forth. Sam’s head snapped back, bouncing off the pillows and mattress. It wasn’t enough to do any real damage but combined with the lack of air, it was disorientating.

“I. Said. Look. At. Me,” Lucifer demanded. “Dumb bitch! Can’t you understand me? Fucking look—look at me!”

Lucifer came inside him just as Sam felt his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Dumb bitch,” Lucifer said, pulling his hands away and slapping Sam hard. He climbed off Sam, not bothering to be gentle enough and Sam winced at the resulting kick to his ribs.

Sam’s eyes rolled open as he turned onto his side, coughing for breath. Through the haze of oxygen-deprivation and pheromones, Sam’s eyes slid open and he watched the bleary form of Lucifer’s back as he walked across the room, grabbing a bottle of alcohol off the desk, pouring himself a stout glass, and taking a swig. The room was darkly lit, and Sam didn’t get a chance to look around further before squeezing his eyes shut again as Lucifer turned back to the bed. Sam didn’t want to make the mistake of seeing his face.

“You’re not even a good fuck,” Lucifer said, walking back to the bed.

Sam clenched his legs together when the first trickle of cum threatened to leak out. Not that it did much good. He still felt it drip down his thighs.

“Come here,” Lucifer said, climbing back into the bed.

Sam could hear the drink in his hand sloshing, threatening to spill onto the sheets in a way that Sam was sure he’d be blamed for. So he flipped onto his back, letting Lucifer settle on his chest. The weight reminded Sam too much of the choking from before so he couldn’t quite relax as much as he wanted. Lucifer didn’t seem to have any qualms about the whole thing.

“Open up,” he ordered.

Sam dropped his jaw, preparing himself just in time for Lucifer shoving into his mouth. He wasn’t quite fast enough in relaxing his throat and gagged twice before falling into a rhythm. Lucifer gripped his hair, using that as leverage to lazily rock his hips back and forth.

He took his time with the blow job. Sam wished it would be over. He hollowed his cheeks but any enthusiasm on his part resulted in Lucifer pulling his head back, forcing him to slow down and take his time. It forced Sam to be in the moment, unable to tear himself away from the dick in his mouth and the filth that coated it. He was forced to concentrate on the taste and the weight and the presence of it, instead of sinking inside himself.

But at the same time, Lucifer was the one who set the pace. If Sam relaxed and kept his mouth open, he didn’t even have to move. Lucifer’s tight grip in his hair moved him up and down and back and forth and any way that Lucifer wanted.

“So good for me,” Lucifer crooned, moving his hips forward and holding his dick in the opening of Sam’s throat just long enough for the alpha to choke. “You feel so good, bitch. You know that right? Look so good and feel so good.”

He said it as if Sam cared.

Sam didn’t.

“Now this is what I can’t get with another omega,” Lucifer said. “This is what I _love_.”  

Sam gagged again when Lucifer shoved in and didn’t move. The spit was collecting under his tongue, and when Lucifer moved again it gushed out, running down his chin and dripping onto his neck and chest. Sam took the brief moment of reprieve to swallow and lick his swollen lips.

“Come on,” Lucifer crooned. “Just a bit more, sweetheart.”

Sam obediently opened up his mouth, letting the spit-covered dick back into his mouth. This time though, he didn’t gag, timing his swallows and breaths so that he wouldn’t mess up. It only took around a dozen slower, drawn-out thrusts before Lucifer was spilling into his mouth. Sam swallowed quickly to prevent himself from choking on the bitter taste, grateful when Lucifer finally pulled away.

He climbed off of Sam’s chest and collapsed on the bed next to him, leaning against the headboard and taking a drink from his glass, exhaling obnoxiously in appreciation. He patted Sam on the shoulder and then pressed the bottom of the glass—cold and wet—against his chest.

“Drink,” he said.

Sam fumbled with the glass, pushing himself up into a semi-sitting position so that he could take a sip of the alcohol. It was mostly water at that point, the ice cubes melting and mixing with the remaining dregs of whatever whiskey or bourbon or whatever Lucifer had just been drinking. He was grateful for the hydration anyways and quickly took a second sip.

“Good boy,” Lucifer said, running his fingers through Sam’s hair.

Sam squeezed his eyes tighter, feeling dirty and used. Which, he was. It wasn’t an unusual feeling, and maybe it was only so bad because Lucifer was touching him, not necessarily sexual, just common place, easily, like he was just touching a stuffed animal that was sitting in his bed instead of a human. Sam held back his shivers, let himself go limp. This was one time he didn’t want to react.

Lucifer yawned and stretched, rolling over so that his back was to Sam. Apparently that was it. Sam was almost relieved. He moved slowly and carefully, reaching over to place the empty class on the bed’s side table. He planned on rolling out of bed and curling up on the floor, anything to get away from Lucifer and his skin-crawling touch.

“Mm, stay,” Lucifer said, both his voice and scent relaxed and sleepy. He reached over to grope for Sam, grabbing his wrist and forcing him back. “Wanna cuddle.”

Sam gritted his teeth but dutifully shifted and slotted himself around Lucifer. The omega was tiny in his arms, delicate and fragile. Sam was reminded just how easily it would be to break Lucifer open and end everything that was happening.

Instead, he curled and cuddled himself around Lucifer, making sure not to pin his legs with his own and keeping his teeth well-away from his scent glands.

Lucifer sighed and relaxed into his arms, apparently uncaring that Sam was twice his size and now wrapped around him. In moments, his breathing had evened out and he was asleep.

Sam didn’t have that same luxury. He lay there, eyes squeezed carefully shut, head resting on the pillows and his arms wrapped around Lucifer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go back to his mate and make sure that Gabe wasn’t hurt or worried. Sam fidgeted then stilled, knowing that if he woke Lucifer, the consequences would be far too great.

So he lay there, wishing for his mate, tears somehow leaking out of eyes no matter how tightly he squeezed them. It hurt. Maybe more than the whippings and beatings. This soft gentle touch, forced on him and forced to give.

Sam wished hard and got nothing. He fell asleep with Lucifer’s satisfied, sated scent in his mouth and nose and the memory of Gabe’s regret in his mind.

 


	17. A Fine Morning

Sam woke up with Lucifer’s fingers in mouth, and that was so startling that he was gagging before he was even fully awake. He was still trying to orientate himself when a hand snaked between his legs and grabbed his balls, squeezing hard. Sam yelped, waking up completely.

“Easy,” Lucifer whispered in his ear. Sam could feel his smile and then feel Lucifer’s teeth close over the top of his ear, releasing a moment later, like a warning. “Just wanted to say good morning.”

Sam gasped, eyes shooting open before he remembered himself and he slammed them back shut. He was blind just in time as Lucifer rolled him, grabbing his face and pulling him into a rough kiss on the mouth, tongue and all.

Lucifer moaned against him, pressing his tongue against Sam’s lips and still squeezing his balls painfully. Sam squirmed but then remembered not to struggle too much.

“Come on,” Lucifer said, rolling Sam onto his back. “I’m horny.”

Sam froze when he felt fingers on the cage around his knot. They were deft and gentle but twisted the cage in a way that made Sam grunt. And then suddenly it was gone, yanked off, and Lucifer was climbing onto his chest.

“What are you waiting for?” he said, smacking Sam across the face. “Get yourself hard.”

Sam flinched and pushed the blankets away from his hips. It felt weird to be touching his dick again, like a disgusting autonomy. He dumbly pumped himself up and down, wincing as the skin chafed and pulled painfully. Sam didn’t stop. The weight of Lucifer on his chest was a threat.

Sam didn’t like it, but he got hard anyway. Lucifer cradled his face in his hands, smelling like sex and lust—an eye watering combination of sharp peppermint and strong coffee. Sam shivered, because Gabe sometimes smelled like that. Sometimes, kind of, but it was never like this.

“There you go,” Lucifer said, straightening himself and shifting around.

Sam continued pumping his dick because Lucifer never told him to stop. He wasn’t sure what Lucifer was doing until he felt slick start to drip onto his stomach and Lucifer’s scent spiked wildly. And then his slick-wet hand was replacing Sam’s, pumping his dick for him.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hating how that felt better than his own hand. He gritted his teeth and tried not to think about anything.

“Hold still,” Lucifer said. “And control yourself for ten minutes instead of being the slut you usually are.”

Sam didn’t really understand what was going on until Lucifer shifted downwards, knees on either of his hips and squeezing him tight. Like . . . . like . . . . Sam felt his heart sink. Like he was about to ride a horse or something. Or _something_.

Sam’s mind went blank as Lucifer lowered himself down on his dick, groaning like a porn star.

“Oh, _fuck_ me,” he said, breathless as Sam bottomed out inside of him. “Why didn’t I do this last night?”

Sam didn’t know either. This felt a million times better than what Lucifer had don’t last night. But no, he pulled himself away from the pleasure, trying to think of Gabe, tried to think of how Gabe smelled, tried to think of what Gabe felt like and then Lucifer was _fucking moving._

He pulled himself up and dropped himself down, thighs squeezing Sam’s hips bones and his hole squeezing Sam’s dick. Hot, wet, and tight—it took over Sam’s mind, pushing away all other thoughts and leaving him reeling.

“God, _fuck_ ,” Lucifer moaned, gasping as he rode Sam up and down. “Oh, fuck, I didn’t know you would feel so big. Gabe has no idea what he’s doing keepin’ you locked up.”

He braced his hands on Sam’s chest, squeezing hard enough for Sam to wince. Not that it took away from the situation. Sam’s hands shot up without his thinking about it, resting on Lucifer’s hips as he sunk back down.

“Like that, huh?” Lucifer said, a sneer in his voice. “Like a nice hole to hug your slutty cock?”

Sam groaned at the words, wanting to deny them but Lucifer was already moving.

“Bet Gabe is nothing like this,” he said. “Bet Gabe can’t give you anything close to this. He’s a fucking amateur. I’m a pro.”

No. No. Gabe was a million times better than this. Sam argued with himself. Which was ridiculous because he shouldn’t be carrying on a two sided conversation with himself but he was. Gabe was soft and gentle. He didn’t call Sam names. He begged Sam to do whatever he wanted. He let Sam have some sort of control over the entire situation.

“Come on,” Lucifer said, breaking Sam out of his thoughts. “I’m close. Show some enthusiasm, bitch.”

His hands wrapped around Sam’s throat like a warning.

Sam grunted and carefully pumped his hips up at the same time that Gabe came down, punching out a gasp from the omega. The fingers around his throat tightened on reflex, leaving Sam gasping in the same way.

“That’s it,” Lucifer said, panting as he chased his own pleasure. “Again.” He squeezed Sam’s throat. “Again, bitch.”

Sam swallowed, the action making his ears pop because his throat was basically closed off. He timed a thrust again, rewarded by another gasp from Lucifer that melted into a groan. Sam’s hips were drenched in slick now, and he figured that the faster Lucifer came then the faster this whole thing would be done with.

He timed his thrusts with Lucifer’s rhythm, careful not to be too enthusiastic or too rough. His only job was to make sure Lucifer got what he wanted and not try to get anything for himself. And apparently he did a good enough job because a couple moments later, Lucifer released his throat to pump his own dick to speed his orgasm.

Sam sucked in a much needed breath of air, letting his grip on Lucifer’s hips lightened and then completely fall away.

His knot was starting to form, and that made Sam panic. He wanted to shove Lucifer off his body, to make him stop this horrible thing. He didn’t want pleasure from this! What he wanted was Gabe!

Lucifer came with an obnoxious gasp, so high pitched it almost sounded female. He slammed himself completely down on Sam’s dick, ass resting on Sam’s thighs, hole twitching around his dick. His cum, wet and rapidly going cold, splashed onto Sam’s stomach and chest.

Sam almost lost control of himself.

Almost.

Lucifer only sat there for a moment, riding out the last of the pleasure before pulling himself roughly off of Sam, climbing completely out of bed too.

Sam immediately rolled onto all fours, reaching down and grabbing his dick without thinking. He knotted his hand, groaning as he completed his own orgasm and came onto the bed. He was so lost in his own pleasure that the strike of a leather belt snapping against his ribs made him gasp and collapse in on himself, falling against the mattress. He then was gasping from a different pain as his hands fell away from his dick and his knot swelled bigger than normal as it no longer had a hand or a hole to keep it down.

“Bitch,” Lucifer said noncommittally, but his scent was distracted and no longer stunk so strongly of lust. The peppermint was mellowing out, not so eye wateringly strong anymore.

Sam let out a careful breath, relieved to no longer be the center of attention anymore. He kept his shoulders hunched, head down, and his ass up, just in case Lucifer wasn't quite done with him yet.

But the door to the bathroom slammed shut and a moment later, the shower turned on.

Sam let himself relax, slumping against the pillows and blankets. He sunk into their softness, cupping a hand over his mouth and nose so that Lucifer's stench wasn't as strong. He listened to the shower run for several moments, feeling the sheets begin to glue themselves to his hips. Cautiously, he peeked his eyes open, squinting against the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

The room was bright, even without the electric lights on. The curtains were flung wide open. The floor was strewn with clothing from last night. There was a phone charging on the bedside table and a travel bag sitting off to one side. Sam wasn't sure what time it was, not seeing a clock anywhere in the room. Early morning maybe? Unless they had slept in very late, which would explain why the sun was so bright.

Sam swallowed and hesitantly reached over, propping himself up on his elbows so he could just barely see the screen of the phone. Carefully and ever so slowly, he tapped a single finger against the screen. The single touch brought the device to life, showing Sam the time, date, and huge list of notifications Lucifer had to deal with.

7:20 A.M.

Quickly, Sam snapped his hand away, as if he had been burned. He slammed his eyes shut again, burying his face in a pillow and struggling to calm his breathing. Rebellion, rebellion, rebellion—it made his heart pound and his thoughts race. Doing such a little thing to buck the authority and the social stereotypes was terrifying and freeing. Sam was scared of getting in trouble.

But the water continued running and Lucifer didn't come storming out to beat his ass. Sam was safe. For now.

He let himself doze. Kind of. He couldn't really relax knowing that Lucifer was awake and only a room away. But Sam forced his muscles to unclench and his breathing to even out. It was hard, but he did it. Sam relaxed and so his breathing was much better when Lucifer walked out of the bathroom. He smelled heavily of soap now, which was much better than sex in Sam's opinion.

“Up,” Lucifer said. “We're putting your cage back on for breakfast.”

Sam quickly scrambled to his feet, blindly making his way out of bed and onto his feet. When the blankets fell away, he shivered against the cold air of the room. Still, he knew better than to flinch under Lucifer’s gaze.

“Disgusting,” Lucifer said. The shampoo still hid most of his scent but Sam was sure it spiked like chai tea. “Bathroom.”

Sam swallowed and picked the direction that smelled most like shampoo and water and hesitantly moving in that direction. Lucifer clicked his tongue and grabbed Sam’s ear, yanking his head in the right direction.

“This way,” he barked.

In the bathroom, Sam was shoved into the shower, roughly. He hit his shoulder on the tile but he didn’t let the pain register on his face. A moment later, the spray of water hit his hips and stomach, drenching him down and washing off the slick and cum. He was clean in a couple moments and then the water turned off and then Lucifer was yanking him out of the shower.

A towel was shoved into Sam’s hands as a welcomed reprieve. As Sam dried is face and hair, he could feel hands at his crotch, tugging his dick into place and then snapping the cage back around it. Sam relaxed at that. It was a signal that Lucifer was done with him and that this nightmare was almost over.

“Alright,” Lucifer said. “Done. Let’s go.”

Sam had to scent his way as Lucifer walked out of the bedroom. He felt his way along the wall and did his best to keep up. It was hard though, Lucifer didn’t seem to care if Sam was left behind or not and walked fast and with a purpose. Sam was left to stumble over his own feet, one hand on the wall and the other out in front of him to make sure he didn’t run into anything.

The scents of the halls were a muddled mess of beta, cleaning supplies, and omega, making Sam’s head spin. He was both proud and relieved when he smelled breakfast food and Gabe. It was the most glorious combination he had ever smelled in his entire life.

Sam almost wanted to open his eyes to see his mate but then Lucifer started talking and Sam remembered why he had closed his eyes in the first place.

“Good morning, brother,” he said. There was a clatter as his chair was dragged back and he sat down. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” Gabe said, but even Sam could tell that his voice was slightly strained even if his scent didn’t betray him. “And you?”

“Oh, I slept fine,” Lucifer said and gave a sharp whistle. “Here, Sam.”

Hesitantly, Sam started across the room, nervous that he didn’t know where to go or even where the table and chairs were. He had to let go of the wall and that made his spatial orientation flop. Sam froze for a moment, scared of where he was supposed to go. He scented the room, trying to pinpoint where Lucifer and Gabe were exactly. He took a hesitant step forward.

Lucifer laughed and slapped his knee. “ _Here_ ,” he said. “Oh my god, look at him. Like a fawn with new legs! Doesn’t even want to take a step!”

Sam hated being at the butt of such a stupid joke.

“Come on, alpha, this way,” Gabe called, his voice softer and losing the edge that Lucifer’s had. “To the _left_.”

Sam swallowed, unsure why Gabe wouldn’t call him by his name but grateful for the directions. He took several steps to the left, feeling discreetly in front of him for the table or chairs or anything. He wanted Gabe to talk again, to tell him where he was so he wasn’t as lost.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Lucifer said with a laugh. “Look at him.”

A chair scraped back across the floor. Footsteps thumped dully on the hardwood. Sam scented the air nervously, scared of which omega was coming to ‘help’ him. He almost sunk to the floor in relief when it was Gabe instead of Lucifer.

“Here,” he said softly, taking Sam’s wrist not quite gently but not quite roughly either. “He’s almost as stupid as they come,” he said louder, to Lucifer.

“I can’t believe you let him bite you,” Lucifer said. “Useless as a mate. Not even a good fuck.”

Sam winced but gratefully sunk to his knees at Gabe’s direction. The wood under his knees gave him a point of pain to focus on, and when Gabe’s knee bumped into the side of his head, Sam orientated himself and leaned forward, scenting his way into the V of Gabe’s crotch.

Sam let the scent of his mate overwhelm him, flood his senses, and block out everything else. He mouthed pathetically at the fabric, wanting to replace the memories of last night and this morning with memories with Gabe, with his mate.

Gabe, to Sam’s regret, didn’t oblige him. Instead, his thighs twitched closed, squeezing Sam’s head briefly before relaxing. Sam almost like the way the fabric of Gabe’s pants pressed against his ears, blocking out the noise of the room.

Sam gave Gabe’s crotch another lick and then peeked his eyes open. He locked on the wet spot he had left of Gabe’s pants, darker than the rest of the fabric. He was so close that he could focus on the texture and strands of the fabric. Sam made the mistake of looking up and locking eyes with Gabe whose own eyes went wide.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “No, shh!” He pressed a hand down onto Sam’s hair, brushing it away from his forehead, and then moved it down further, over Sam’s eyes. “Not now,” he whispered.

Sam gulped and squeezed his eyes shut again, swallowing as Gabe removed his hand. He could be good for his mate, he could obey. He was a good mate that closed his eyes and didn’t see things that weren’t intended to be seen by him. Sam could be blind and stupid.

“I don’t know why you pamper him,” Lucifer said, his mouth obviously full with food that Sam couldn’t have.

Gabe’s legs shifted around his head, squeezing briefly before relaxing again. Sam nuzzled his head against the inside of Gabe’s thigh, trying to comfort him in the only way he knew how.

“Don’t you have a favorite sex toy?” Gabe said. “One that you clean after every use. Maybe change its batteries every once in a while? Like, it’s such a good toy that you kinda wanna keep it around for longer that the other toys you’ve had?”

“Hmm,” Lucifer said, his mouth still full. Or maybe he had taken another bite. “I guess.” He laughed. “I have this one—this alpha back home. He’s the cutest fucking thing. He makes the cutest noises, has the cutest reactions. I call him Adam.”

“He sounds nice,” Gabe said, his hand dropping back to Sam’s head.

“Maybe I should bring him by,” Lucifer said. “Like a playdate, you know. Have you seen alphas together? They are so cute.”

“Sure,” Gabe said, running his fingers idly through Sam’s hair. “I mean, maybe.”

“And Adam is such a size queen,” Lucifer went on. “Like, _loves_ it up the ass. I bet he would absolutely adore Sam.”

Gabe shifted in his seat. “Well, you’ll have to bring him by,” he said. “Later, when I’ve had a chance to have Sam for myself.”

“Of course, of course,” Lucifer said. “I get that.” His chair scrapped back, and Sam heard the clatter of silverware on an empty plate. “Have fun with him. I gotta get back to my own toys.” He made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “And work.”

“Good bye,” Gabe said, his scent calm and stable. “I hope you have a good trip back.”

“Thanks for having me, bro,” Lucifer said.

His footsteps echoed through the room as he left. The door clicked shut. And there was a heartbeat moment of silence.

And then Gabe was shoving back his own chair, so hard that it skidded and then tipped over, crashing to the ground. He sunk to his knees in front of Sam, grabbing his face, and pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“Oh god, Sam,” he mumbled around their lips and tongues. “Oh god, I never thought I would be so excited to see an alpha ever in my entire life! I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so scared he was going to do something like before.”

“No, no, no,” Sam said, kissing his mate back just as hard but careful not to hurt him.

“I was scared you were going to get hurt,” Gabe said.

“No,” Sam said, wanting to reassure his mate as much as possible.

“I was scared he had hurt you,” Gabe said.

Sam kissed him hard, so that he didn't have the chance to say anything else. He wanted his mate to stop talking and to just hold him. He didn’t want to think about anything other than him and his mate.

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “Gabe, I’m fine.”

“And your eyes!” Gabe said, pulling back from the kiss and cupping Sam’s face in his hands. His scent was wild with happiness. “Fuck me, Sam, your _eyes_!”

Sam felt his heart sink and he bit his lip. He loved his mate, he really did. He loved Gabe and wanted to do everything to keep him smelling as happy as he did right now. But opening his eyes? With Lucifer gone, there was no risk of seeing something he wasn’t supposed to.

But.

But.

Why did there have to be a but? It was like a string attached to him, pulling him backward when Sam wanted nothing more than to move forward. It was hard, and even he was disappointed in himself for being so weak.

“I forgot how beautiful your eyes were!” Gabe said, his smell not diminishing at all from its sweet, sugar-glazed-donut happy smell. “Fuck me, Sam. I didn’t think I would ever be that omega that gushed over their alpha but I want wallet sized photos of you so I can take them to the office!”

Sam giggled, feeling his cheeks go hot and his heart go all fast paced and jumpy.

“Gabe,” he said. “Gabe.” He just liked saying his mate’s name.

“Things will be better now,” Gabe said. “I swear it, Sam. You’ll get better and Lucifer will be gone and everything will be so much better than before.” He wrapped Sam in a hug, squeezing him so tight that Sam was almost scared he wouldn’t breathe.

Sam squirmed, because he wasn’t quite sure if he liked being held so tight. But he didn’t push Gabe away.

“I’ll try,” he said softly, almost whispering the words into Gabe’s ear. “I promise, I’ll try.”

“You’re so crazy,” Gabe said, releasing him from the hug finally. “Sam, you’re crazy. You’re already doing amazing.”

Sam smiled down at his lap, already remembering the best things that he missed about his mate. He wanted to go back to bed then and there and sleep the day away, a luxury he couldn’t have with Lucifer. Maybe, maybe, maybe, if Sam was feeling particularly brave and ready for it, he would open his eyes again and see the happiness that registered on Gabe’s face.

For now, he satisfied himself with the smell of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the chapter count, all that's left is some editing! ^-^ I think I'll update every couple days if possible


	18. Licorice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very, very brief mention of underage molestation and slight rape? it's in passing though, no big details

“Apparently,” Cas declared. “Seven years of office work doesn’t make me experienced enough to put together hamburgers for people.”

Dean watched as Cas threw aside the pamphlet he had been working on for a while. He didn’t know why Cas had been so insistent in pouring himself over it when it made him smell like frustration and anger but he had been at it for nearly a half hour.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not entirely sure what he could do to help but knowing he didn’t want to leave Cas by himself with the problem.

“It’s this job,” Cas said, dropping his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. “I mean, it’s not the cheapest fast food restaurant. It’s a little classier, but they want me to have several years of experience in the food business. I don’t have that so I don’t think they’ll hire me.”

“Why is that experience needed?” Dean said, pushing himself up from the couch. He walked from the living room into the kitchen, joining Cas at the table. “Why can’t you learn on the job?”

He pulled the papers closer to him, scanning the top and then down the page. “Job Application” the headline read in bold, block letters. The graphs and lines were all filled in with Cas’s slight chicken scratch, his name and address and phone number. Dean flipped the page open to see the Job History section. Only one section was filled out there—the office job that Cas had had at his family’s company.

It looked pathetic all alone on the page. Cas was right.

“Here,” Cas said, flipping over another page and shoving it over to Dean. He tapped a finger against a paragraph with a sigh.

‘It is preferred that the applicant have at least two years of experience in either fast food business or basic retail,’ the paragraph said. ‘While that experience is not required, it is preferred. The applicant should be used to working in a fast paced environment and be able to keep up with machinery.’

“It says not required,” Dean said, double checking to make sure he read it right. “The experience, I mean. It says that it’s preferred but not required. That means you’ve got a chance, right?”

Cas was sitting with his head in his hands, fingers threaded through his hair. He looked up at Dean, resting his chin rest on his fist.

“Fast paced?” he said, gesturing to the end of the paragraph. “Keep up machinery? Does that sound like me? I get flustered when the conveyor belt at the store checkout goes too fast.”

Dean set his mouth in a hard line, trying to smother the urge to grab Cas by the shoulders and shake him. What else was he supposed to say? Cas was an omega. Being an omega was basically getting a free ticket to life. If Cas wanted the job, he got the job. Wasn’t that how it worked usually?

“Look,” Dean said, reaching across the table to grab one of Cas’s hands. He then realized that mistake and pulled back. He shifted in his seat and tried again. “Look.” He gestured around to the apartment. “You’ve gotten this far. Done all this. Getting this job—convincing them you’ll be able to do it and _actually_ doing it—you can do it.”

_You’re an omega_ , he wanted to say.

He didn’t, though. And Cas looked immensely relieved at his words he _did_ say out loud.

“Thanks,” Cas said, scooping up all the papers and pulling them back over to his side. He picked his pen back up and found the spot where he had left off. “If I can get this job,” he said while he wrote. “I can start earning my own money. We have the credit card right now, but having our own income would be helpful.”

“I could work,” Dean offered. “I've seen plenty of alphas working in different places. Just fill out an application for me.”

Cas chewed his lip, smelling uncertain at that. “But you don’t have experience either,” he said. “At least, not the experience that anyone will be looking for.”

Dean wrinkled his nose at the implication but then slumped down. It wasn’t worth it to be angry. It wasn’t worth it to try to fight. Cas was just as frustrated as he was.

“What if,” he said instead. “We just use my . . . experience?”

Cas looked up at him, frowning in confusion. “What do you mean?” he said.

Dean sat back in his chair, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, twisting it between his fingers. “I mean,” he said. “I was at a camp doing hard labor for eight years and then a month at the facility learning . . . . you know.”

Cas swallowed, and Dean watched his throat bob.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, um, I mean. I don't want you to do that. Do you want to do that? I don't want you to do that.”

“I'll do whatever we need,” Dean said. He jerked his chin at the window. “I'm sure half the alphas out there do it. All we have to do is go stand on a street corner and wait until someone offers money.”

“I don't want anyone else to use you,” Cas said sternly, planting his hands on the table.

“Do you want money?” Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

How does one convince an omega that the world isn't handed to you? In an alpha's world, you got on your knees without complaint and sucked and fucked your way to the top.

Dean could think back to the labor camps. Some of the most prized alphas were the ones that performed just as well inside their cells as they did outside. These alphas were rewarded with better food, better blankets, and drinks of water when the sun was shining its harshest. These alphas were whipped less, beaten less, and treated with more care. Both Sam and Dean learned early on to swallow when they felt like gagging, to breathe through their nose, and to not hold back their tears. Apparently betas like it when they had thirteen year olds sobbing on their dicks.

How does one convince an omega that the world isn't handed to you? Dean tried to imagine that school that Cas went to after he presented as omega—and a _rich_ omega at that. He tried to think of the classes and the food and the playgrounds Cas got to enjoy while he was sleeping on a straw mat. Cas learned math and English and history. Dean learned out to use shovels, how to carry wood and stone without hurting his back, and how no one would ever want him ever because of his biology.

Dean found himself suddenly choking back tears, surprising himself by getting emotional over the flashback. Was he jealous? Hell yes. But did he have enough energy to continue to be jealous?

No.

Dean didn't think he would ever have the energy to be jealous or angry or annoyed at Cas. It was like being jealous or angry or annoyed at a puppy. He didn't understand the world in the same way that Dean did. He was learning different perspectives and slowly becoming more aware, and being angry or annoyed with him did nothing to help.

“Look,” Dean said, taking a moment to get control of his tears before speaking. “All I’m saying is, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. For you. For both of us.”

“I get it,” Cas said. “I just . . .” He looked down at this own lap now. “I don’t know, I just—don’t like the idea of other people, you know.” His cheeks flushed pink and his scent flushed with embarrassment. “Touching you.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to think about that. Cas touching him? _Did_ Cas want to touch him? Cas didn’t touch him. Cas was _scared_ of touching him, wasn’t he? Wait no, Cas just didn’t really like Dean touching him back.

This was confusing to keep track of.

“It’s stupid,” Cas said, pushing his chair away from the table and standing. He was storming off into the living room before Dean could say anything. “It’s stupid, I know. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean said.

He always knew omegas were greedy over their possessions. That was how he knew Sam was going to be okay with Gabe now that they were mated. Once omegas latched onto to something, they had a _very_ hard time letting go.

But he and Cas weren’t mated. They weren’t mates. Cas had no reason to care.

“I get it,” he said even though he had no idea and definitely did not get it. “We don’t have to do that.” He looked back at the papers still strewn across the table. “But then you have to get a job for yourself.”

“I want to take care of you,” Cas muttered, still sitting in the living room. He said it in a way as if he didn’t really want or expect Dean to hear.

Dean let him have that moment of privacy. Instead, he gathered all the papers together in a neat stack, set them in front of Cas’s seat along with the pen he had been using.

“Fuck, I just want to talk care of him,” Cas was muttering on the couch. His head was in his hands, fingers laced through his hair. His scent was a confusing mix of anger and that same licorice smell that Dean hadn’t smelled in such a long time.

Cloyingly sweet and undeniable, it only took a few moments for the anger scent to fade and the licorice scent to dominate the room. Dean didn’t think to look up until he felt the hair of the back of his neck prickle and his heartbeat speed up. His stomach flip flopped, and Dean frowned, looking up to see Cas studying him.

Cas’s cheeks were flushed, and when he realized Dean had caught him staring, he quickly turned away. And then he pushed himself to his feet, running his fingers through his hair to push it away from his forehead.

“I’m going to the bedroom,” he said.

And then before Dean could say anything to comfort him, he was walking off to the bedroom. There wasn’t a door to slam, but Dean could imagine that that’s exactly what Cas would have done.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

Was there anything worse that a grumpy omega? Dean drummed the table with his fingers, blowing out a gusty sigh. He leaned back in his chair and scanned the room, looking for any sort of excuse so that he didn’t have to follow Cas. Did the dishes need to be done? No. Did the floor need to be mopped? No, of course it didn’t.

Dean had to follow Cas.

He pushed himself up to his feet, stepped back, and pushed his chair in. Then, with no other reason to stall, Dean walked toward the bedroom.

He knocked on the door frame to be polite, staring at his feet so that he wouldn’t have to look into the room and see Cas. When he didn’t get a verbal response, Dean knocked again.

“Cas?” he called.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas replied.

Dean risked a glance up, immediately locking onto Cas, slumped on the mattress that sat on the floor. He cut a pathetic picture if Dean were honest with himself—hunched over, knees drawn up to his chest. He hadn't even turned the light on when he had walked into the room and was sitting in the dark. He still smelled strongly of licorice, which made Dean’s stomach flip flop even more than before.

“Um, are you okay?” Dean asked. Zoey, Zoey—think of Zoey. How did Dean comfort her when she didn’t get her way? Or when she wasn’t able to do something that she wanted to do?

“I’m . . . . I’m fine,” Cas said.

Dean nearly groaned. That’s exactly what Zoey would say. Not actually, now that Dean thought about it, Zoey would probably be rolling on the floor screaming and throwing a tantrum.

“Hey,” he said. “Cas. If. . . . if I say what I’m about to do, will you not be scared?”

Cas’s head snapped up, cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink and the licorice scent bloomed even stronger. And when he spoke, his voice cracked uneasily. “What—what do you mean?” he said.

“I mean,” Dean said, maintaining his patience. “That if I sat down next to you right now, would that be okay?”

Cas’s scent fluttered with nervousness and then with more of that licorice scent. “I’ll be fine?” he said, his voice squeaking up even more that before, making the statement into a question.

Patiently, like Cas was Zoey on one of her worst days, Dean moved slowly across the room. Cas didn’t flinch when Dean settled down on the mattress. Instead, he folded his hands neatly in his lap, and the licorice scent grew stronger.

“I’m going to put my arm around you,” Dean said softly.

He did, brushing his fingers along Cas’s scent glands. In an instant, Cas was relaxing, slumping against Dean’s chest with a sigh. Encouraged by that response, Dean returned to massage the glands, gently at first and then as Cas turned more and more into jelly, Dean massaged harder.

And then something seemed to shift in Cas as he went completely limp in Dean's lap and he started purring.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “Oh my _god_.”

Dean took that as a sign that he was doing something right and continuing petting Cas's shoulders, trailing his fingers down his spine, dragging lightly with his nails just enough to scratch. Dean made sure not to touch skin though. He kept fabric between them and, even when Cas's shirt rode up with he stretched his arms, Dean avoided the strip of skin and went back to his shoulders.

“I haven't relaxed in ages,” Cas said, stretching completely across his lap and forcing Dean to lean back on his other hand. “With everything, I mean.”

“I get it,” Dean said because he had been just as wound up about Sam. He still was. And even if he couldn't quite relax, it was satisfying to make sure Cas could. “Everything has been crazy.”

“I'm so glad you're here,” Cas said. He had an arm draped over his face, blocking his eyes, but the licorice scent was slowly making Dean's muscles unclench. “If you weren't, I'm not sure I would have been able to do this.”

“And I'm glad to have you,” Dean said honestly. “For standing up for Sam. And me. We wouldn't be able to be the way we are right now without you. That was really nice of you.”

“Don't thank me,” Cas said, still not removing his arm from over his face. “Not yet at least. We still have a lot to do.”

“But we're getting there,” Dean encouraged. “We're closer to it than we've ever been before.”

“It?” Cas said.

“A better life, I mean,” Dean said. “One that we're both happy with.”

Cas had gone still on his lap, probably because Dean's hand had also gone still now just resting on his shoulder, unmoving.

“You're happy?” Cas said, his voice also softer than before.

Dean shrugged even though Cas couldn't see him. He could probably feel the movement anyway. He resumed his scratching but Cas had stopped purring and didn't start back up.

“I mean, sure,” he said. “Of course I'm happy.”

Thinking about it now, he was just realizing that he was happy. Of course, Cas didn't always make the best decisions and he was clumsy and didn't pick up on things as fast as someone else, but was anyone perfect? Everyone came with quirks and oddities and small habits that you had to work around. But Dean was happy. Happier, at least, than he would be anywhere else. Cas had grown on him, stubbornly, after all this time. Dean no longer just acted on his training. He genuinely wanted to make sure Cas was okay.

Cas moved, breaking through his thoughts, sitting up from his lap and shifting to lay down normally on the bed. He rolled so that his back was to Dean and he hugged the pillow close to his head. His scent hadn't shifted from that strange licorice, so Dean figured he hadn't said or done anything wrong. Instead, he shifted too, laying down beside Cas and draping his arms around him. His form felt small and delicate under him. Omegian. Dean was reminded just how fragile Cas could be.

The lights were already off, and Dean closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the day dragging his lids down faster than he was aware of. In only a couple moments, he was already dozing, mind shutting down and muscles unclenching.

The licorice scent that wafted off of Cas was also very helpful, making him feel nice and light and floaty. Now that his eyes were closed and he was laying down, his stomach didn’t flip around so much and he felt much better.

Cas shifted underneath his arms before settling down for himself. The licorice scent mellowed out for a moment and then it flushed stronger suddenly.

“I love you.”

Dean stiffened at the words, but they had been so soft and quiet and so barely there that—the moment after Dean thought he heard them—he was already double guessing himself. Had he? Had he really heard them? No, he couldn’t have because immediately after that, Cas’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

At least, Dean thought he was asleep. He couldn’t really move the check or anything.

He must’ve imagined the words. He must’ve.

So with the licorice scent still surrounding him, still oozing off of Cas, Dean fell asleep for himself, dreaming of a time when things weren’t as complicated, when he wasn’t an alpha and neither was Sam, when loving someone meant cooking them a meal and making sure they were okay after every day of hard work. A simpler time when licorice was just a candy.

 


	19. A Fine "You're Welcome"

Sam wasn’t as upset about going to the daycare the second time. Gabe let him wear a blindfold like before because Sam still hadn’t opened his eyes yet. Sam was happy about that. Gabe also let him wear sweatpants and a t-shirt, just like before.

Sam didn’t even make a scene when Gabe patted him goodbye and the beta who had been running the desk led Sam to the play area. Sam excitedly scented the room as the beta unclipped his leash, happy when he smelled Eileen.

Still, he waited patiently while the beta led him over to where Eileen was and unclipped his leash, sitting him down on the carpet.

“You two be good,” he said, patting Sam’s head. “And have fun.”

Sam waited as the beta walked away, but the moment the door clicked shut and he and Eileen were alone, he reached up and ripped off his blindfold.

“Hello,” Eileen said, greeting him with a smile.

The world was just as bright as it was the last time Sam had opened his eyes, still full of color and still beautiful. It was even better that he could see Eileen, the pretty alpha who understood his half of the world. He smiled back at her.

“Hello,” Sam replied, feeling his cheeks flush hot. He fidgeted, twisting the straps of the blindfold in his lap.

“You look nice,” Eileen said, her scent smelling as flirtatious as Sam felt.

“So do you,” Sam said, ducking his head and smiling at his lap.

“And you smell nice,” Eileen said, reaching a hand over and resting a hand on his knee. Her touch was warm and nice. She was gentle too, just resting his hand there, doing nothing more than touching, and Sam wanted to lean into the touch more.

There was a moment of just that. Of just staring at each other. Of just scenting each other. But as it dragged on, Sam became more and more restless. The weight of Eileen’s hand on his thigh grew heavier and heavier, and suddenly Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to shove her hand away but didn’t.

“I had sex with my mate’s brother,” Sam blurted instead. It was the only thing that came to him mind. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Plus, it had been weighing on his mind for so long and he had no one else to tell. It had come out so suddenly that Eileen pulled back, immediately, drawing her hand away.

“What?” she said.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Why had he said that? He already regretted it. He ground the heels of his hands against his eyelids, also regretting that he had tossed away his blindfold so quickly.

“I had sex,” he blurted. Now that he was started he couldn’t stop. “I had sex with him. He had sex with me. We fucked. I—I don’t know. We did it. That’s it. You should know that we did it.”

He was itching his face now, scratching at his eyelids and cheeks. It helped him focus. It narrowed his thoughts. It helped him think.

Eileen was grabbing his hands then, pulling them away from his face. Sam kept his eyes squeezed shut, panting through his mouth in short, gasping breaths.

“Easy, easy,” Eileen coaxed. “Sam, you gotta breathe, okay? Breathe, deep.”

Sam tried to follow her instructions, he really did. But it felt like Lucifer was sitting on his chest again, and he couldn’t take a deep breath to save his life. He took a couple deep, shaky breaths and then it was back to gasping and heaving like some sort of fish.

“We had sex,” he was babbling. He was _aware_ he was babbling. Stupidly. Stupid. Babbling was stupid. “We had sex. We. Sex. Sex.”

“Breathe,” Eileen said, giving his hands a gently squeeze.

Sam squeezed them back harder.

He breathed. Deeply, holding all the air in his lungs and then very, very, very slowly letting it all out. He kept his eyes squeezed shut though, squeezing Eileen’s hands even tighter.

“Sex,” he whimpered, scenting desperately for Eileen's sympathy of oranges and apples.

“Rape,” she said, the word curling out of her mouth with a sense of disgust and bitterness that she normally didn't have.

Sam actually looked up at her. He blinked his eyes open to study her with confusion. His hands went limp and he no longer felt the urge to tear at himself. Latching onto a problem that wasn't his own distracted his brain enough to help him think more clearly.

“What?” he asked.

Eileen wasn't looking at him, instead studying her own lap. Sam gave her hands a squeeze, trying to imitate the comfort that she had been giving him moments before. She drew in a deep, steady breath and raised her gaze back to his face.

“It wasn't sex, Sam,” she said. “I know that. Don't call it sex.”

Sam swallowed thickly. He wasn't quite sure he understood. Eileen must've caught onto his confusion because she gave him an encouraging smile. She let go of one of his hands and reached up to press a hand against his chest.

“It wasn't sex,” she repeated. “So you don't have to call it that. It was rape.”

No, no, that didn't seem right. Sam shook his head.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “I'm an alpha.”

Alphas didn't get to say yes or no. They weren't allowed to. If Sam wasn't allowed to say no, if sex wasn't an _option_ , then consent didn't really exist. Right? If there was no consent, then how could rape exist? It was a trap, one that he couldn't escape because of his biology. But that was too hard to explain. Instead, Sam shook his head and shivered, squeezing her hands as a lifeline that grounded him.

“He was an omega,” he explained.

Omegas always got what they wanted no matter what. That was how the world worked. And if you weren't an omega, then you didn't get what you wanted. Ever. Wasn't that how it worked? Yeah, that made a lot of sense. More sense than imaginary consent at least.

Sam sighed and slumped his shoulders. He couldn't do this. It was all too hard.

He twisted his hands out if Eileen's grip and reached for the blindfold, intending to put it back on. All he did was mess things up. Especially when he opened his mouth and said stupid things. He wanted the darkness again. He didn't want to look at anyone and he didn't want anyone to look at him.

Eileen stopped him though, snatching the blindfold away and holding it close to her chest, like she knew Sam wouldn't try to get it from her there. She was right. Sam wouldn't dare think of touching her even if he did want the blindfold back. He could close his eyes. He had closed his eyes before and he could close them again.

“Open your eyes,” Eileen said sternly.

Sam wanted to roll over and bare his scent glands to her. Instead, he obediently kept his eyes open and even went so far as to raise his head to look at her.

Her jaw was set fast, teeth clenched, eyes glittering with determination. She smelled like confidence and oranges and apples and just all sorts of fruit, sweet and nice, and Sam didn't deserve to look at her. But he also knew better than to close his eyes or look away.

“It's rape,” she said with such finality that Sam actually believed her for a moment. “Just because you are an alpha does not mean you don't have a choice. You always have a choice. So do I. And you can say no to things.”

“I—I don't know,” Sam said. “My mate—”

Eileen rested a hand back on his knee, still keeping the blindfold out of his reach.

“I understand,” she said. “Kinda. Before my mate. . . . There was a woman.”

Sam snapped his gaze up, stiffening at the thought of someone hurting Eileen. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he suddenly felt restless, hands twitching, wanting to protect Eileen from something that wasn't there and neither of them could see. But there was nothing he could do.

“It wasn't sex,” Eileen repeated. “Not with her. I never got a choice and it was always done for her pleasure.”

Sam wrinkled his nose and chewed his bottom lip. He put his hand on top of Eileen's, wishing he could comfort her more. He was scared to talk. A small part of him wanted to know what happened. A huge part of him wanted to respect her privacy. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Then he opened it again and finally closed it.

“It happened more than once,” Eileen said as if sensing his morbid curiosity. “Not every night but often. When she touched me—” She gave a full-bodied shiver, almost shaking her hand off of Sam's knee.

“When they touch you,” Sam said, finishing Eileen’s thought. “You want to tear your skin off.” _That_ was a familiar feeling.

Eileen was nodding. “And afterward,” she said. “When it's over and you lay there.”

“And you're naked and you’re _touching_ ,” Sam said. It was his turn to shiver this time. “And you can’t leave because they will get angry.”

“And if you do move and disturb them, it’s always your fault and never theirs,” Eileen said. “And it’s always so uncomfortable because—”

“Because you have to pee!” Sam blurted, feeling stupid that he was excited. The situation was universal or, at least, common between them both.

Eileen giggled, dropping her head to let her hair fall in front of her face. Sam smiled, glad that they had somehow made light of the situation even though it was a sort of gallows humor.

The sudden scent of the beta from the front desk and the click of the play area door opening made Sam snap to attention and remember that they weren't alone and they weren't safe. Eileen was immediately shoving his blindfold back into his hands, and Sam scrambled to put it on, wincing as he ripped out some of his hair between the clasps. But it was on and they weren't in trouble as the beta stepped completely into the room, smelling like forced happiness and a little boredom.

“Hey you two,” he said. “Having fun?”

“Yes,” Eileen said, answering for them both as the beta made his way across the room.

“I don’t see any toys,” the beta teased. “How are you having fun with no toys?”

Sam stiffened, immediately thinking they were in trouble. They had gotten caught. Did the daycare discipline alphas? Yeah, they probably most definitely did. Sam wrapped a hand around his wrist, digging his nails into his skin, hard and tight.

There was a clatter of plastic as the beta rummaged through one of the boxes somewhere in the room, and then he straightened, resuming his walk over to them.

“Huh, Sam?” he said, crouching down next to them.

Sam flinched when the beta took his hands, forcing his fingers flat and pressing a cube of plastic into his hand. He then curled Sam’s fingers around it, showing him the different knobs and holes and loops in the surface of the plastic.

“Here,” he said. “Feel this. Gabe talked about keeping you occupied, said that you’d be restless without a little something to keep you busy. Huh?”

Nervously, Sam fiddled with whatever toy had been placed in his hand, dipping his fingers into the little grooves and tugging on the cloth hoops that hung off the different sides. He could just barely get his fingers into the inside of the cube where there was a small open space. There was nothing there at the moment.

“Huh, Sam? Isn’t that fun?” the beta said. “Look, smell this.”

Something was stuck under his nose and Sam was forced to sniff. It was maple, obviously, very sweat like a candy. Sam licked forward, trying to get it into his mouth even though a part of him was yelling that he had no permission to eat it. But it just smelled so good.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the beta said, pulling back the candy. “I’m gonna put this in your toy and if you get it out, then you can have it. Sound good?”

No, Sam just wanted the candy. Why couldn’t he just have the candy?

The beta clutched the toy briefly, pulling it slightly away from Sam as he worked with it. The candy rattled as it was deposited into the toy, and then the beta was pushing the toy back to Sam. He patted him on his head.

“Have fun with that,” he said. “Eileen, looks like you’re having fun with your puzzle.”

Sam hadn’t even been aware she was doing a puzzle. He dug his fingers into the holes of the plastic cube, trying to reach the candy and get it out. But his hands were way too big and he could just brush the candy without being able to actually grasp it to pull it out.

“At this rate,” the beta said. “We’ll have to get you another puzzle in a couple days.”

“A bigger one,” Eileen said, smelling and sounding proud of her work. “Because these ones are getting too easy.”

The beta laughed. “I bet they are,” he said. “I'll have to tell Lillian to buy you some so you don't have to come here to do them all the time.”

Eileen laughed, her scent turning into embarrassment. “She doesn't have to,” she said. “I'm fine with these puzzles.”

“I'll mention it anyway,” the beta said. “Have fun you two. I'll be back in a bit with a snack.”

Sam gave a frustrated growl when the candy slipped out between his fingertips once again, and he barely noticed the beta giving him a pat on the head before walking off. Sam wanted that candy, and it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to get it out with his hands. He shook the toy, rattling the candy inside, and then brought it up to his nose for a sniff. He could still smell the maple syrup-y goodness, he just couldn't get it.

“Do you want to talk more?” Eileen asked as the door to their room clicked closed.

“No,” Sam said, bringing the cube to the mouth and propping it between his teeth. Maybe he could chew it open if his fingers couldn’t fit inside. If he tipped it right, maybe he could get it to fall against one of the holes and then maybe he could get his teeth around it.

“Sam,” Eileen said, resting a hand on his knee again.

Sam brushed her off. He no longer wanted to think about it. He had thought too much about it already and thinking about it more would just make him feel horrible. He focused on chewing the plastic, wanting to break it open to get the candy.

“We’ve talked enough,” he said. Because they most definitely had.

“Okay,” Eileen said quietly.

Sam paused in his chewing to scent the air and make sure he hadn’t hurt Eileen in some way. But no, she only smelled slightly like discomfort and more like concentration as she most likely moved onto her puzzle. Sam cocked his head and listened to her snap a view pieces into place before resuming chewing on the plastic cube.

“I'll be here,” Eileen said, shuffling through her puzzle pieces in a rustle of cardboard. “If you ever want to.”

Sam had managed to swipe his tongue across the candy a couple times, getting himself a mouthful of sweet maple syrup flavoring. But at Eileen's words, he paused, picking at a seam in the cube he had found with his fingernail.

“Thank you,” he said, wholeheartedly meaning it.

Eileen was one of the few people who genuinely cared. She was an alpha of course, and alphas always cared, especially for other alphas. It was an unspoken rule: that alphas support other alphas. So Sam set the cube aside for a moment and reached out, finding Eileen's arm and moving down to grab her hand.

“Thank you,” he said with as much sincerity and honesty he could muster.

Eileen's scent blossomed into that sweet fruity scent of before and she gave his hand a returning squeeze.

“Hey,” she said. “I know how to get your toy open. I've seen the workers give it to other blind alphas. I could open it for you.”

Sam wanted to protest and say that no, he wasn't blind, but he also wanted that maple candy. So he quickly handed it over, listening eagerly as Eileen fiddled with the case for a bit, make a couple remarks over how much he drooled on it, and then finally cracked it open.

Sam eagerly held out his palm, waiting for Eileen to give him the candy prize. And she did, and he tossed it into his mouth, savoring the sweet, pancake-like taste that made him think of Gabe.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Eileen rested her hand on top of his and when back to her puzzle, smelling of happiness and contentment once again.

“You're welcome,” she said.  

 


	20. Closing, Closing, Closed

Cas burst back into the apartment after spending an entire day on his own. That in and of itself was exhilarating. This morning had been the last day of his heat, and he felt _great_. He could now leave the apartment without the threat of being fucked by some unknown alpha.

Okay, there was never _not_ that threat, but still, walking out of the apartment that morning, so early that Dean was still passed out on the couch, had been one of the best feelings ever. Of course, it helped that Cas had put a sleeping pill in his dinner last night. Dastardly? Maybe. Needed? Yes.

Dean was still horribly protective of him for some reason. For some odd reason. For some odd, peculiar, unexplainable reason. A reason that Cas had no idea what it was at all because—fuck it, who was he kidding?

Cas had been avoiding Dean ever since two nights ago.

Cas had been an _idiot_ two nights ago. He had been so hyped up on the omegian hormones of his heat that he had just had to open his stupid mouth and say the one thing that would drive Dean away from him.

_I love you._

God, how stupid could he be? Omegas only loved alphas if they were mated. And were he and Dean mated? Most definitely not.

But as Cas turned the key to his apartment, still engaged in this constant mental argument with himself, he realized that he had stopped thinking of Dean as an alpha and more as just a person. He thought of everyone as a person at this point.

Well, people with biological differences. But that was all people. Man and woman, alpha and omega. A world split into two.

Was love that dividing line?

Cas didn’t get a chance to answer the question that he asked himself because then he was inside the apartment and he got distracted by the couch cushions strewn across the living room floor and the dozens of dishes lining the counter and table, all of them filled to the brim with water. Cas stopped in the doorway, keys still in hand, staring at the entire disaster of the place.

And then Dean burst out of the bathroom, hair and eyes wild. And when they landed on Cas, they went even wider.

“Omega!” he said and then was rushing forward faster than Cas could react to.

And then he was grabbing Cas by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace and scenting him wildly up and down his neck, kissing and grooming the skin with light, gentle licks. He clutched at Cas’s clothes, pulling him tighter and tighter, scenting him harder and with more desperation.

“Omega,” he was mumbling against Cas’s skin. “Omega, I was so scared.”

“Why were you scared?” Cas said, feeling his cheeks go hotter than usual at the attention. He pushed against Dean’s chest, trying to get out of his tight grip and out from under his attention. Having Dean fret and fuss over him was just too much, too embarrassing.

“Because!” Dean said, pulling away and holding him at arm’s length. “Worried?! I wake up and your scent is stale and there’s not a trace of you in the apartment! That’s why I’m worried! Scared some alpha came in and—I don’t know! Took you away!”

Cas flushed hot, ducking his head so he wouldn’t have to look Dean in the eye. “It was nothing like that,” he said, feeling much more flustered around Dean than normal. When did Dean get so dramatic? “I had a job interview.”

“A job interview?” Dean repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Cas jumped on this topic, glad that they didn’t have to talk about him leaving or Dean being worried about him anymore. He fumbled for his back pocket, pulling out the folded sheet of paper he had shoved there and proudly unfolded it, holding it up so that Dean could see.

“Look!” he said, pointing to the lines that he had managed to fill out on the bus ride home. His writing was shakier due to the bus not being the smoothest ride but it was something that he hadn’t had before.

Dean was still looking confused but at least his hands had dropped away from Cas’s shoulders. Instead, he brought them up to take the sheets of paper from Cas, quickly scanning them, his eyes darting back and forth. By the time he reached the bottom of the page, he still looked just as confused as when he started.

“It’s an application acceptance form,” Cas explained and then felt sheepish, like he shouldn’t be so proud of such a simple accomplishment. “Well, kinda. They really want to hire me but I need to fill out these forms because apparently there are several alphas on staff and the manager is concerned with how that will work with my—um, condition.”  

Dean looked up from the sheet of paper at his face again, eyes going just as wide as before. This time though, he also broke out into a huge smile. He grabbed Cas again—when did he become so damn clingy?!—and Cas could hear the paper crinkle and get ruined under his grip.

“You have a job?” he said, the wonder blatantly obvious in his voice.

“I had a job _interview_ ,” Cas corrected, not wanting to count his chickens too much before they hatched. But Dean's excitement was contagious, and he could feel himself getting excited too. “But it seemed very promising, and the man who interviewed me said I did very well!”

Cas's stomach was flip flopping like usual as Dean broke out into another smile. God, why couldn't he feel normal around him like he felt around everyone else? Why, why, _why_ did he have to feel this way?

He thought back to two nights again, when he had opened his damn mouth in the heat of the moment. Cas still wasn't sure if Dean had heard him at all. Dean hadn't responded and Cas had gone to sleep as quickly as he could after that, not wanting to be conscious to see or feel Dean's reaction. But Cas was still curious, the lack of response perhaps worse than any response Dean could give anyway.

Did Dean reciprocate the feelings? Was Cas imagining things? Sometimes, he liked to daydream about living a life with Dean. Sometimes, he let himself imagine what would have been different if he had met Dean before the accident, when he could still smell. How would things have turned out then?

Would Cas not have hurt Dean so much? He would be more aware of Dean's feelings and emotions. He wouldn't be such a useless klutz all the time, and Sam probably wouldn't be in the situation he was in right now. If Cas could smell, he could be normal and then everything would be so much better than it was currently.

“Cas,” Dean said, giving him a concerned look, eyebrows all drawn together and bunched in the middle. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, pushing away from Dean and walking across the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and busied himself with shuffling the cans of soup back and forth. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” Dean said.

Cas shut the cupboard, unable to bring himself to choose a can. They had just been eating soup way too much lately. They had frozen pizza in the freezer, he knew, but he had never had that before. He looked go the living room, seeing the cushions and pillows strewn across the floor. He wasn't sure what the bedroom looked like.

“If you make pizza, I'll clean up a little,” he offered.

Dean jumped forward at those words, taking his hand and pulling him away from the kitchen, all but nudging him toward the living room and the couch.

“You sit,” he said. “I’ll make the pizza and I’ll clean up.” His cheeks were pink as he bent to gather the couch cushions and enough pillows to make the couch comfortable. “You don’t have to do anything okay.”

Cas really wanted to protest but Dean was already hurrying back to the kitchen, pulling one of the frozen pizzas in the freezer and setting it on the counter. He ripped open the plastic, balling it up and tossing it into the trash. He turned on the oven, fidgeting with the knob for a moment before satisfied with where it sat. Then he turned back to Cas.

“You don’t have to just sit there,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in an embarrassed sort of way. “I meant that I can do the work. You can just relax.”

Cas pushed himself to his feet, unsure if he should head to the bedroom to get his laptop or head to the kitchen to help Dean. Obey or be a good help?

“I can help,” he said. He stooped and began to gather up the other pillows and the blanket that were spread across the living room floor.

Dean made a noise like he wanted to protest, but when Cas looked up at him, he snapped his mouth shut and went back to readying the stove and the pizza. So Cas continued cleaning up, letting his mind roam like usual.  

Was Dean acting any differently than usual? Had Dean heard him that night or was he ignoring the situation just like Cas was? Was Cas overreacting about it all? Yeah, probably. Cas thought about saying the words again, summoning up enough courage to actually look Dean in the eye in the light of day and not in the middle of the night. He looked over to Dean, watching the way he moved around the kitchen, straightening all the containers of water.

Cas looked quickly away when Dean looked up. He cleared his throat and re-straightened all the pillows on the couch.

“So what’s with all the water?” he said, trying to fill the silence with something.

“Oh,” Dean said. He grabbed two bowls and dumped them into the sink. He wouldn’t look Cas in the eye. “I thought—if you were gone, I mean—that the water would get shut off. Or something. So I wanted to save as much as possible.” He stacked the bowls next to the sink and looked over all the other dishes. “I see how stupid that was now.”

It was pretty stupid, Cas wanted to admit, but he didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed one of the soup bowls, bringing it to his mouth to take a long, careful drink. It was room temperature but still kind of refreshing. And yeah, he didn’t want to waste all this water as long as it was out.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We’ll just, uh, have to use it.”

Dean nodded, grabbing two mugs that were filled to the brim. “Tea?” he asked, holding one up to Cas.

Cas nodded, moving to the cupboard as Dean moved to the microwave. He took down the boxes of tea and the container of sugar, loving that he could hear Dean bustling around behind him—the glass tray of the microwave clattering and the clink of the ceramic cups on the counter. It was so normal that if Cas closed his eyes, he could imagine them back at his house, in the cleaner, bigger kitchen, living a life that wasn’t as chaotic as it was now.

“Why do you smell like that?” Dean asked.

Cas hadn’t been expecting a question and almost jumped out of his skin. And then he was embarrassed, bringing a hand to his scent glands and covering them.

“What?” he asked, maybe a bit more abrupt than he intended. Did he smell disgusting? Gross? Awkward? Could Dean tell that he still had to shower and probably needed it too? “What is it?”

“Licorice,” Dean said with a frown, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “You smell like it a lot and I don’t know what it means.”

Licorice? Cas had never heard of himself smelling like licorice. But Gabe was never a reliable source when it came to things like that.

“What do you mean?” Cas said, not feeling any better about himself than before. Now that Dean had said something, Cas was dying to know more. How often did he smell like licorice? How long had he smelled like licorice? How many times had he smelled like licorice and Dean hadn’t said anything?

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just at certain times you smell like licorice and I don’t know what emotion it is. What do you feel right now?”

What _did_ Cas feel right now?

He was looking at Dean, looking at the way Dean was looking at him. Cas looked at his green eyes and his burnt blonde hair. The freckles across his nose and cheeks, accentuated by the fact that Dean hadn’t gotten sun in a while. He still had muscles too, despite not doing any hard labor in quite a while. The shirts and pants Cas had bought for him fit well, almost too well. The shirt was snug around his shoulders and arms, flexing with him as he moved.

Cas’s mouth went oddly dry, and he forgot what he was thinking about for a moment. And then he became aware that Dean was staring at him just like he was staring at Dean, and then they were both waiting for him to say something.

The microwave chimed as the timer hit zero, but Dean made no move to get the water out. Instead, he leaned back on the counter, making his shirt shift, riding up a little but not enough to show skin. Cas still noticed, and his mind locked onto that movement.

“Well?” Dean asked, wrinkling his nose as if he were smelling the licorice scent right then and there.

And then Cas remembered the question. What was he feeling? What was licorice? What made him smell like candy? What did licorice smell like again? He couldn’t find that memory and while a part of him was scared, a bigger part of him wasn’t.

“I love you,” he blurted, feeling his cheeks go hot. And suddenly he wanted to take the words back, stuff them back into his mouth and swallow them into his stomach.

Why had he said that?!

_Why had he said that?!?_

Why was that what his brain decided he needed to say? And now Dean was staring at him, waiting for something else, probably for Cas to explain why he had just said what he had just said. Like an idiot. What else was there to say?

“Um,” he said, eloquently.

Cas wished Dean would say something.

“What do you mean?” Dean said.

Cas wished Dean hadn’t said anything.

“I don’t know,” he blurted.

“You don’t know what you mean?” Dean said. He sounded unimpressed, his tone flat and emotionless.

Cas couldn’t smell him. He couldn’t smell what Dean was feeling. While he was an open book for any and every one, he was stuck the way he was, trying the gauge Dean by his face and words alone. It was . . . frustrating. Undeniably frustrating. It made a hot fire of frustration burn in Cas’s stomach, and suddenly he felt less in love and more angry.

“I mean I love you!” he said. _Yelled_. He hated that Dean flinched. “And you can tell that I love you.” Because of the licorice. “And I don’t know anything about you!” That was a lie; he knew stuff about Dean.

“You love me?” Dean said, shrinking back against the counter. Cas tried to ignore the way he tried to make himself as small as possible.

“You’re ignoring everything else!” Cas said. He tried to stop yelling. For some reason, he couldn’t. “I can’t smell you. I know _nothing_!”

“We’re not mated,” Dean said. “How could you love me?”

Cas groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Why was Dean stuck on that one point? Why couldn’t he look past that? Cas groaned again. He couldn’t even look past that, why did he expect Dean to do any different? Love and smelling—they were the two most uninteresting interesting facts about him.

“Cas,” Dean said, his own voice dropping down lower. Like the more Cas raised his voice, the quieter Dean lowered his.

“Forget it,” Cas said, turning to retreat to the bedroom. Or maybe the bathroom, the bathroom had a door. “Forget I said anything. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, Cas,” Dean said. “I just . . . . I wasn’t expecting it. There’s been . . . so much licorice.”

Oh, and that made Cas feel so much better. How much had Dean known? How long had Dean known? How long had Cas been broadcasting his feels instead of being as covert as he thought he was being? He hated to think about it.

“I said forget it!” Cas said.

“No, Cas,” Dean said, stern and unmoving.

Cas actually stopped in his tracks, mid step, hand on the wall. He risked a look back over his shoulder only to see Dean walking toward him. Cas was scared for a moment, but then that didn’t make sense. And by the time Dean reached his side Cas was warm and tingly and his stomach was doing flips like before.

Dean grabbed Cas’s wrist first, tugging him back to his feet. Then he grabbed Cas’s shoulders. His waist. He pulled Cas close, hesitated. Cas could see feel the wavering in his touch. Dean dipped his head to the crook of Cas’s neck, gently scenting him.

“Licorice,” he murmured.

And Cas felt stupid for not realizing how much it felt like love.

He turned his face into the crook of Dean’s neck as well, even though he couldn’t scent Dean. It felt nice to be so close to another person. He wasn’t scared of Dean doing anything. Dean wasn’t like that. Cas realized that now.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Dean said, not pulling away, just turning his head just enough to say the words.

“For not realizing it earlier,” Cas said, also not moving. He mumbled to words against the fabric of Dean’s shirt. “For being such an asshole.”

Dean shivered, and Cas felt his mouth open in a smile.

“You aren’t an asshole,” he said. “Most of the time.”

Cas let him have that, because it was true. He leaned his head against Dean’s chest, trying to forget about the past and everything that had happened. He just wanted to exist in _this_ moment, not in any other moments.

He still jumped a little when Dean moved his hands from his waist, to the collar of his shirt. Dean pulled it down so that he could press his lips against Cas’s scent glands, and Cas shivered. The thought of Dean’s teeth and his mouth so close made his shudder. He pushed away, feeling stupid and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, now flustered and unbalanced. “I don’t think I can—I’m not ready for _that_.”

“Okay,” Dean said, and before Cas could mumble out some other excuse that he would regret, Dean was bending over and kissing him instead of his scent glands.

Oh!

Oh.

oh.

Cas preferred this much better than scenting or grooming or anything else that mates usually did. He closed his eyes, and let himself relax against Dean, sinking into his arms and chest. Oh, much, much better. And when he peeked his eyes open, Dean's eyes were closed too.

 


	21. Quite So Perfectly Fine

Sam was jostled awake as Gabe climbed out of bed. He scented out of instinct and then remembered that, if he wanted, he could look with his eyes. He was just in time, as there was a clatter in the bathroom and Gabe swore.

Sam opened his eyes, grateful that the lights were still low and the curtains were drawn, meaning the room was dark. Sam scented the room, feeling a lurch deep in his stomach at the familiar scent of desperate omega in slight distress. He shot up to his hands and knees.

“Mate?” he called softly.

“I’m fine!” Gabe called from the bathroom. “Stay in bed, Sam.”

Sam didn’t like the sound of that. He should obey his omega—he should stay in bed and be good and obedient. But something about Gabe and the way he sounded and the way he smelled made Sam shiver. So he rolled to his feet, pushing himself to the edge of the bed.

His feet hit the floor, softly. He made sure he didn’t make a noise, not wanting to draw Gabe’s attention just yet. He pushed himself to his feet and started toward the bathroom.

The sharp scent of blood and pain made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His heart pounded a little harder and a little faster. Sam abandoned silence and sneaking and rushed forward, freezing in the doorway of the bathroom at the sight of Gabe, hunched down over the sink and fumbling with a container of pills.

With his eyes open, Sam could see the spot of blood on the back of Gabe’s pants, and his heart sunk to his stomach.

Gabe looked up at him, shock and surprise registering across his face. He downed two pills and swallowed them dry before turning, keeping his back pressed against the sink and counter.

“Sam,” he said, a little breathless and more than a little flustered. “I told you to stay in bed.”

Sam swallowed and cocked his head, the desire to help his mate warring with the need to obey. He frowned, tightening his grip on the doorframe. Gabe wasn’t okay. Gabe was hurting. Sam needed to help Gabe, but how?

“Sam,” Gabe said again, but his voice wasn’t angry or warning. Instead, it was tired and pained. His grip on the counter was loosening, his legs threatening to give out.

Sam took a step forward but froze when Gabe raised a hand, pointing back to the bedroom. But he didn’t say anything, just hung his head tiredly and took a deep, shuddering breath. So Sam took another step forward.

He caught Gabe under the arms as he collapsed, making sure he didn’t hit the ground. He eased Gabe against his chest before maneuvering an arm under his thighs and scooping him up. Gabe grabbed onto his shirt in tight fists, whimpering as he pressed his face against Sam’s scent glands.

“It’s okay,” Sam murmured, carrying Gabe out of the bathroom and back to the bed.

“I’m okay,” Gabe said, flopping limply onto the mattress as Sam set him down. It was less of an agreement and more of a defense. A very poor defense. He groaned, tipping his head back. “It’s just my heat.”

Sam whined, taking Gabe’s hands in his own, wanting to help but unsure how. Gabe smelled so good and so sweet and only a little bit like pain and blood, even though the spot on the back of his pants was growing bigger and threatening to soak into the blankets. His dick was trying to get hard, throbbing against the cage he still wore.

“Here, here,” Gabe said, breathless with his eyes half drifted closed.

Sam held still as Gabe’s hands went to his pants, yanking the sweatpants down enough to expose the cage. His trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp, taking a couple times before successfully undoing it. Sam had to pull it off himself because Gabe collapsed again, out of breath from just that small ordeal.

Sam leaned over Gabe, carefully leaning down to nuzzle Gabe’s head up and aside to scent him gently. He actually gasped out loud at the deliciousness of it, candy canes and chocolate and other things that were sweet that Sam couldn’t be bothered to think about.

He tugged at Gabe’s shirt, pulling it up. He just wanted to be able to touch Gabe. To see Gabe. He ran his fingers over Gabe’s stomach and ribs, then up higher to his chest. Gabe moaned and arched into him, pressing harder against his touch.

“Yes, yes!” he hissed, reaching up and grabbing Sam’s face, pulling him down for a long and slow kiss. “God, I fucking love you,” he said as soon as they broke apart.

“Love you too,” Sam said, wincing as Gabe gasped in pain and his entire body went rigid. “Do you want—”

“You?” Gabe finished. “God, fucking _yes_!”

He was shoving his pants down before Sam could move for himself, shimmying awkwardly to get them off his hips and down to his knees. Sam took over from there, tugging them down to Gabe’s ankles and then completely off, tossing them across the room. Gabe’s shirt was next, pulled over his head and tossed in the same direction.

Sam sat back on his heels, taking a moment to pull off his own shirt and abandoning it, giggling when Gabe grabbing him around the waist, loving the feeling of skin-on-skin contact with his mate. He leaned forward and down again, pressing a kiss directly onto Gabe’s lips and he fumbled with his pants. He had to pull back a little to push them down and then kick them off. But then he was naked.

“Come on, come on,” Gabe coaxed, grabbing more and more at Sam’s hips and legs.

“Silly,” Sam chided, but he helped Gabe spread his own legs, wincing at the pool of blood that had formed.

He kneeled between Gabe’s legs, ignoring the blood and mess and pushing two fingers into his hole. He leaned down and captured Gabe’s mouth in a kiss as he worked him open slowly. It wasn’t much work. Gabe’s body was already open, loose, and ready, but Sam still gave him a couple moments to adjust before pulling his fingers away and lining up his dick.

“Come on,” Gabe said. “Just fuck me already.”

Sam smiled at his mate’s eagerness but didn’t obey. Instead, he pushed in slowly, just to give Gabe’s body a chance to adjust. Gabe practically melted underneath him, moaning the entire time Sam moved and then sighing in relief as Sam bottomed out.

“Good, good,” Gabe said, breathless and desperate. “Now move. _Please_.”

This time, Sam obliged. He pulled out and then thrust back in, punching a moan out of Gabe. He leaned down and latched onto Gabe’s mating bite, worrying the skin with his teeth. He sucked gently, nursing the taste and scent of Gabe’s heat and letting it make his knot swell. He pumped in and out of Gabe’s hole, loving the way his mate fell apart underneath him.

“Oh. Fuck. Yes.” Gabe panted, hands holding onto Sam’s shoulders and rubbing over his own scent glands.

Sam purred at his touch, getting caught up in the moment. He twisted his face, catching Gabe’s scent glands in a warning bite. It was playful and mocking, but Gabe still went limp, playing along. Even in his strung out state he still managed to follow what Sam was doing because he laughed and moaned, tilting his hips up to meet Sam’s thrusts.

“So big, Alpha,” he said. “Oh, so big. Feels so nice.”

“Omega,” Sam teased, releasing Gabe’s scent glands.

“Fucking alpha,” Gabe said, but his tone was also teasing.

Still, Sam slammed into him a little harder, making Gabe gasp and whimper, fingers twitching against Sam’s shoulders before tightening. Sam could feel his nails drag against his skin and knew there would be marks left over. It made him glad, knowing he would mark up Gabe and Gabe would mark up him in return.

“Come here, you,” Gabe said.

His grip was weak against Sam’s shoulders, but Sam let him push him over and roll on top. He laughed a little as Gabe had to stable himself but managed to stay upright. Sam kept up the facade though, pulling a straight face and letting Gabe dominate for a second. Not that the omega had any chance if Sam were being serious.

“Gotch-ya,” Gabe mumbled, too weak to actually move, instead just sitting on Sam’s dick. He did take a moment to hold his win over Sam’s head, grinning triumphantly. Or, rather, Sam let him take a moment, admiring his mate from a new angle.

He flopped his head to the side, baring is scent glands and letting Gabe lean down and catch them between his teeth. He wasn’t nearly as pushy as Sam had been, but he did bite down a little harder before relaxing and letting Sam go. Sam kept up the game, letting Gabe circle his hips and lay kisses along his jaw and shoulders.  

He let Gabe be the alpha and then giggled at the thought of himself being an omega.

Gabe sat back, settling his ass on Sam’s hips. He frowned although his eyes were hazy and unfocused. His hands rested on Sam’s chest.

“What?” he said. “Why are you . . . laughing?”

“You,” Sam said. He wasn’t sure how else to explain it. “Me?”

Gabe rolled his eyes, dropping down to rest his head on Sam’s chest. “You’re weird,” he mumbled. “Just fuck me, you sentimental sap.”

Sam smiled and wrapped his arms around Gabe, rolling them over so he was back on top. It took a bit of maneuvering, because he had to flip Gabe onto his stomach, into a proper presenting form. He braced his hands on either side of Gabe’s head and leaned over him with a grin.

“Ready?” he asked.

Gabe only rolled his eyes, reaching back to grab Sam’s hips as if he could pull him forward and manually fuck himself. “Of course I’m ready, you idiot,” he said. “How many times do you have to ask?”

“Just want to make sure,” Sam said, giving Gabe a quick kiss on the lips before finally thrusting forward. He moved hard and fast, like he knew Gabe wanted.

In an instant, Gabe was a moaning, satisfied mess beneath him. He had gone back to idly stroking Sam’s scent glands and his mating bite, gasping at every thrust and occasionally tilting his hips up to meet Sam’s strokes.

Sam was grunting too now, both from the effort and the sensations. He could feel his knot starting to swell more and each thrust was becoming harder and harder.

“I’m almost . . . almost there,” he warned, not wanting to surprise Gabe and end up hurting each other.

“Oh, fucking—fucking knot me,” Gabe said. “Stop talking—and knot me.”

Sam didn’t have the energy to retort. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Gabe, thrusting up one last time in order to force his knot into his hole and lock them together. And with that, he collapsed on his side with a groan, wincing at the awkward pull on his knot. He waited for Gabe to situate himself and then found a position that was comfortable for himself.

“Fuck,” Gabe murmured, pushing back against his hips a couple times before settling. “This is better than the first time.”

Sam smiled and ran his fingers through Gabe’s hair, pushing it away from his sweaty forehead. He remembered the first time—the fumble of too many limbs combined with the sharp pain of a mating bite. A mess.

“I love you,” Gabe said, twisting his head to plant a lopsided kiss on the corner of Sam’s lips.

“I love you too,” Sam said. He splayed his hands across Gabe’s chest and stomach, settling down on his side of the pillows to wait out his knot.

The sheets were sticky and dirty beneath them and would need to be changed as soon as they got up. And a shower would do them both well. They were both sweaty from the whole ordeal. Sam sighed and relaxed, trying to shove off the worrying thoughts about the future.

Gabe was starting to doze off in his arms and the room was quiet except for the tick of the clock and the rustle of blankets, the huff of their breathing. They were both comfortable and sated at the moment, and Sam let himself enjoy that for what it was.

And then Gabe was shifting a little, squirming in his arms. Sam loosening his grip to let him move but winced as his knot was tugged on painfully.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, gasping as Gabe pulled a little too hard.

“It’s stupid,” Gabe muttered, finally settling back down. “I’ll be fine for the night. I can wait.”

“What is it?” Sam asked again, more concerned than before not that Gabe refused to say anything. He wanted to take care of his mate, not be brushed aside.

Gabe laughed, grabbing Sam’s arm and pulling it around his shoulders. He laced their fingers together and brought them up to plant a kiss on Sam’s knuckles. “I just have to pee,” he whispered and then giggled again.

And Sam laughed too. Because it was that ridiculous. Not that he minded. Gabe always seemed to be ridiculous in all the best ways. Still, he pressed a kiss to his scent glands and snuggled a bit closer.

“Can you wait a bit longer?” he asked. “My knot will only last a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?” Gabe repeated teasingly, tracing odd shapes on the backs of Sam’s hands. “That’s it?”

Sam rested his teeth against Gabe’s mating mark, giving Gabe a warning squeeze. He quickly released him then, because he was just teasing and didn’t want Gabe to take him seriously. “You’re mean,” he said, pouting even though he knew Gabe was teasing too.

“You know I don’t mean it,” Gabe said.

Sam smiled and ground his hips upward, forcing his knot just a little bit deeper into Gabe and making him gasp in surprise. And then Gabe settled back down and reached back to pat him on the hip.

“You’re my big, strong alpha,” he said. “Emphasis on big.”

“And you’re my sweet, tiny omega,” he said. “Emphasis on sweet.”  

Gabe slapped his hip and then gasped at the pull on his hole. “I thought you were going to say tiny,” he said.

Sam nuzzled against his scent glands. “Never,” he said. “But there’s nothing wrong with being tiny.”

“There is—” Gabe’s words were interrupted by a yawn. “Everything wrong with being tiny.”

“Go to sleep,” Sam admonished, not wanting to keep his mate up longer than needed. “You can pee in the morning.”

Gabe laughed but he relaxed and, in a couple moments, his breathing evened out. Sam groomed his scent glands gently, waiting a couple minutes to make sure Gabe was well and truly asleep before leaning back himself. His knot would go down while they slept, and Sam would be ready again by tomorrow.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Gabe and his heat and his sated after-sex smell. It was nice and satisfying, dozing with his mate in his arms. No one else fit there quite so perfectly.  

 


	22. Moving On

“Hey, look at this one,” Cas said, opening the newest file he had been looking through and spreading out the pages more.

It was a nice home. Small. Two bedrooms and one bathroom, an absolutely beautiful kitchen, and a pretty decent sitting area too. It was an apartment across town so no access to any yard or outside area but that was the least of Cas’s worries. It was in a nice neighborhood too, one that some of his childhood friends had lived in.

Which meant rich people, no chance of getting mugged or raped on the street. It meant being able to sleep peacefully as he wanted without any sort of fear that anything was going to happen Dean. Or himself.

“It’s one thousand five hundred dollars,” Dean said, leaning over his shoulder to see the pictures. He had been washing dishes, so he kept his sudsy wet hands out of the way, but his breath tickled on Cas’s ear as he leaned close. “A month.”

Cas didn’t want to think about the price. He just wanted to admire the pictures. He pointed to the picture of the front of the house, the door painted yellow and inviting.

“But doesn’t it look nice?” he said. “With all that space and everything?”

Dean straightened and returned to his spot at the sink, picking up the next dish to clean. “It’s one thousand five hundred dollars,” he repeated. “Can you afford that?”

“No,” Cas admitted, picking up the two pictures of the different bedrooms and admiring the queen-sized beds. “Not yet, I mean.”

“Then maybe you should choose a different one,” Dean suggested.

Cas wanted to groan and protest his logic, hating how right Dean was all the time. Maybe they could just ask Gabe and he could give them enough money to get it and then they could just be out of this horrible place and somewhere better instead.

But no. He didn’t want to burden Gabe more that he already was. Besides, Cas really wanted to do this for himself. He wanted to pick himself up by his own bootstraps, pull himself together, and save Dean. Like a good hero was supposed to. Like all good omega heroes that were in every good story.

He sighed and pushed away the pictures of the first house and returned to his pile of other files. He picked through a couple others. None of them looked as good at the other one though. They all were too small or too cramped or just not right. Cas couldn’t picture himself living in any of them, least of all living in any of them with Dean.

Behind him, Dean finished the dishes and set them to dry, the clatter of the ceramic being one of the few noises to fill their current living place. He dried his hands on a towel, tossing it onto the table next to all the sheets of paper as he sat down, a seat away from Cas.

He pulled a few papers over to his side, and Cas watched him look through them.

It was interesting to watch him think. He chewed his bottom lip and scratched at his chin. His other hand fiddled with the corner of the paper he was reading, flipping it up and down and occasionally wedging it under his nail. He seemed to get bored with tapping his chin and slipped a fingernail between his teeth. It was only for a moment, and then he pulled it away and looked at Cas.

“Licorice,” he said.

Cas blushed and looked away.

Dean had agreed to tell him when he smelled like certain things, specifically whenever he smelled like licorice. Cas was embarrassed to realize just how many times he smelled like licorice. And how much he smelled like other things too.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s not bad,” Dean said, going back to flipping through the pictures. “I was just saying.”

“Does it . . . bother you?” Cas asked. What did Dean feel when Cas smelled like licorice? Did he also smell like . . . licorice? Or his version of licorice?

“Bother?” Dean said. He didn’t look up, instead grabbing another file of another apartment.

“Like,” Cas said, blushing harder and hotter. “Physically?”

_Now_ Dean looked up at him. And Cas couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I guess,” he started slowly. “It makes me feel warm. No, that’s wrong. It’s more, like, protective. I want to protect you? Like you’re small or something, I guess. A lot more too, but it’s hard to . . . describe. It’s not bad.” He gave Cas an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry.”

But Cas did worry. All the time.

Dean reached across the table to place a hand on top of Cas’s, quickly squeezing before Cas could pull away. Instead of insisting on talking about things like feelings and scents, he passed over the top picture from the file he had been looking at.

And instead of pulling away, Cas looked over the picture, seeing what Dean had chosen.

It was a much smaller place that the first one Cas had been looking at. One bedroom, one bathroom, a couple other office areas, a small area that housed an even smaller washer and dryer, and then a combined kitchen-living area. It was around the same size as the place they currently had and around two hundred dollars cheaper.

Meaning it was within Cas’s price range, maybe a bit over depending on how much he spent on food, and it was the logical choice. Dean was right, again, like always.

He should be the omega hero of the story, all logic and good choices. And Cas was just a mess of feelings and bad choices.

“You could get the two months’ rent back that we haven’t used,” Dean went on, swiping his thumb over the back of Cas’s knuckles. “And put it all on this place and we’ll be good for another three, maybe four months. And you’ll be working then and be able to save a little.”

What flawless logic.

“I’d have to talk to the landlady,” Cas said, unconsciously giving Dean’s hand a squeeze back. “But yeah, I think I can get those months back. She, um, she didn’t really say when I was first getting them. And I didn’t think to ask. I was in kind of a hurry.”

Dean shrugged and pulled his hand away, going back to flipping through the pictures of the apartment he had chosen. He even passed a couple over to Cas, so he could look too. Cas looked them over briefly before swiping them aside and grabbing the sheet with all the other information on it.

Cas recognized the neighborhood it was in but only vaguely. Did a couple high school friends live there? Did other friends of friends of the family live there? Cas couldn’t quite remember. In any case, it was a much better neighborhood than where they currently were.

“It does look nice,” he admitted.

“And look,” Dean said, shuffling around the pictures and pointing to the sitting area. “We can put our couch cushions there.” He pointed at the picture of the bedroom. “Blankets and pillows.” He pointed at the bathroom. “All the other shit we bought.”

Cas laughed. Even with commercial furniture and props made to make the place look nice, he could easily picture them in the tiny space, occupying it with all their stuff. And the way Dean talked about it made it sound all so attainable.

“And in this kitchen,” he said, picking up on Dean’s game and his optimism. He picked up the photo of the small kitchenette and held it up. “We can make so much good food.”

“See?” Dean said, smiling. He plucked the photo out of Cas’s hand, placing it on top of the bedroom and then gathering all the photos together and pushing them back into the file. “It grows on you.” He pushed back from the table and stood.

Cas busied himself with gathering up all the other files and straightening them out. He kept the one they had decided on separate and put all the other ones in a pile of their own. He then turned to see what Dean was doing.

He was sitting in the living room, working through the pile of dirty clothes that had been sitting on the floor of the bedroom earlier. He was sorting it into the bags they used for laundry, folding it small so that all of it would be able to fit.

“Laundry?” Cas said, wondering why Dean was starting that no when they had just been looking at other houses to move into.

Dean shrugged. “How soon are we moving?” he asked. “Besides, we can do one more before moving, right? Doesn't hurt anything.”

Cas nodded because it made perfect sense like everything else Dean said. “I can talk to the landlady as soon as possible,” he said. “But doing laundry would be a good idea. One less thing to worry about really.” He wanted to be just as mature and level-headed as Dean was.

Dean was practically finished gathering all the clothes himself but Cas still helped, grabbing one of the bags before Dean could take both and grabbing the apartment keys off the counter. Dean had to pause to pull on his vest and zip it up but then he was right behind Cas as they walked out the door.

The yards were surprisingly empty which was a change from the usual. Instead of the rough and tough characters that normally hung around, there were children out in the yards, playing with balls and toys and their own imaginations. They gave Cas a wide berth and a couple odd looks, but that was much better than the normal catcalls and wolf whistles. The walk to the laundromat was just as uneventful as always.

Abuela Astella was where she always was: sitting at her table with a joint propped in her mouth. She was wearing her usual white t-shirt, printed with its slightly-faded leaf, and her jean shorts and flip flops. She smiled when they walked through the door, baring her teeth and waving her stub of an elbow at them.

“ _Hola_ ,” she said.

“Hello,” Cas said, pausing to help Dean unload the bags into a washing. Usually, he just joined Abuela Astella at her table, but something pulled him back to help. Dean, at least, looked grateful for the help. Cas slid all the quarters into the slot and selected the right cycle. And then he gave Dean more quarters so he could choose a snack and drink from the vending machine at the back of the store.

“Something’s changed,” Abuela Astella said, taking the joint out of her mouth and tapping off the ashes. She narrowed her eyes at Cas and chewed her lip as she thought and finally jabbed the cherry end of her joint at him. “Something’s changed about you.”

Cas actually grinned, too proud of himself to hold himself back.

“Dean and I are buying a house,” he said, unable to do any of the usual bantering he did. “Things are getting better for us!”

Abuela Astella smiled and returned her joint to her mouth. “Ah, the shine of success on a person’s face,” she said. “I should know it.” She blew a stream of smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “You are going to another place?”

Cas nodded. “A better place,” he said without thinking, and then realized how that sounded to her, who probably lived in a place similar. “I-I mean, just a place that’s safer than here, for Dean and me, I mean.”

Abuela Astella only shrugged. “I get it,” she said. “I know I live in an _agujero de mierda._ And I am fine with that. It is my lot in life.” She jerked her chin at him. “But your lot in life is not here, I don’t think.”

Cas decided to take that as a compliment. Maybe.

Dean returned then, carrying what looked like a chocolate granola bar and a can of soda. He side-eyed Abuela Astella because he had never completely warmed up to her in the way Cas had. He stepped around her, keeping his distance, and showed his purchases to Cas.

Just like Cas thought, the bar was chocolate peanut butter granola. It was also labelled as a protein bar and highly nutritious. The soda was less healthy but decorated with bright blues and reds, probably what attracted Dean’s eye.

“Looks good,” Cas said, because he figured Dean was looking for his opinion.

Dean didn’t say anything, just nodded and moved to a table separate from Cas and Abuela Astella, like he usually did. He tore open the bar and opened the can with a crack and a hiss. He ate quietly other than that.

“He always quiet?” Abuela Astella asked. Like always, she seemed to have a chip on her shoulder about Dean.

_Around you,_ Cas kind of wanted to say. He looked over at Dean, trying to guess why he never seemed to speak around Abuela Astella. Nothing came to mind, so he shrugged and turned back around.

“Yeah,” he said, instead of telling the truth. “Usually. He’s here to help mostly.” Cas wanted to wince as he took the lie a bit too far. He really hoped that Dean knew he wasn’t serious.

Abuela Astella snorted but didn’t make any further remark. Instead, she reached down into the cloth bag at her feet and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. She slapped it down on the table between them and then sat back triumphantly.

“Take a look at that,” she said.

Cas leaned forward across the table to look at the wrinkled envelope, trying to figure out what the slightly smudged words were.

“Disability check,” Abuela Astella said proudly. “From the _puto gobierno._ I tricked those shitty bastards into giving me money for living.”

Cas turned the envelope over in his hands curiously. Money from the government? For existing? He didn't dare open it and pull out the papers inside, so he set it back down and raised his eyebrows.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means,” Abuela Astella said, leaning forward. “That I'm doing just what I told you to do. It's a way of living.” She gestured with her elbow. “With this, I cannot work, and because I cannot work, I cannot make money. Because I cannot make money, how am I supposed to support myself?”

Cas never asked what she did, but Abuela Astella always seemed to have money, to wash her clothes and to buy the joints she was always smoking. He frowned slightly, not entirely sure what she was talking about.

Abuela Astella must've caught onto his confusion because she grinned mischievously and pulled her joint out of her mouth to talk more freely. Her tone was more mocking and pretend than before.

“What am I to do when I cannot work for myself?” she said, overdramatically pouting and sticking her bottom lip out. “How do I support my children? My arm is hurt so I can make no money. What is a little old lady like me to do?” She smiled and tapped the envelope, dripping ashes onto the table. “Disability check.”

“So,” Cas said, trying to see if he understood. “Because you are hurt and you can’t work, the government will give you money?”

Abuela Astella nodded and stuck her joint back into her mouth, taking a long drag that made the cherry end flair. “That is right,” she said and shrugged. “Can I work? Maybe. But getting money is more fun. Being tricky is more fun.” She tapped her nose. “You could get it, maybe, if you were tricky enough.”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t mind working,” he said. He felt like he had too, so he wasn’t such a burden. He looked over at Dean. “Plus, I want to take care of him, and he can’t work for himself.”

Abuela Astella snorted. “Not legally,” she said which earned her a glare from Dean.

“I don’t want him working,” Cas said quickly. “Plus, I want to take care of him.”

It was a sense of pride for Cas. Since Dean had taken care of him so much so far, Cas honestly wanted to return the favor, in any way he could really.

Abuela Astella shrugged and stuffed her envelope back into her bag, patting in protectively. “Whatever,” she said. “Glad you have found an alpha to cling to. Even if he is a _perra asustada_.”

Cas decided to ignore her words because he was pretty sure they were nothing good. “So I don’t know if this is goodbye,” he said. “Or if I’ll ever see you again.”

Abuela Astella snorted and blew a puff of smoke across the table at him. “You are way too dramatic,” she said. “Acting like my world is ending just because yours is improving.” She smirked and took a longer drag on her joint, her voice going hollow-fluffy like. “I will still be here and I will continue living.”

Cas kept his smile strong. “Good,” he said. “Because I think you are too good to disappear.”

Abuela Astella pressed her hand to her heart and returned his smile. “You are too good,” she said. “To someone you barely know. Too, too good. I don’t deserve you.”

“But you helped me a lot,” Cas said, like he had to defend why he was still in the same room as her. “And even though I’m a horrible person, you still talked with me.”

“You?” Abuela Astella said, raising an eyebrow. “A horrible person?”

Cas looked over to where Dean was sitting and bit his lip. He thought about what Dean had been through and what Cas had put him through. That made him pretty horrible, didn’t it? He thought about where he was now and how much had happened between when he had first met Dean and now. How much had changed? How much had _he_ changed

He thought about how much he had done to Dean and how much Dean had had to go through just because of him. Thinking about all that, Cas definitely felt like a horrible person. Cas wished he could smell Dean, so he could see if Dean hated him for everything all this time. It was times like these, that Cas hated himself more than ever.

Abuela Astella blew a puff of smoke into the air and twisted when one of the machines let out a loud click. “That would be my stuff,” she said, pushing herself to her feet with a grunt. She walked into the rows of machines with her usual swagger, leaving Cas to his self-loathing.

“Hey,” Dean said, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the laundromat. He pushed himself halfway up out of his seat. “You okay?”

Cas quickly looked down at his hands. “Why would I not be okay?” he asked. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t smell like it,” Dean said. He scooped up one of the remaining chunks of protein bar he still had sitting in front of him and stood completely up. He crossed over to where Cas was and set it down in front of him, not touching him, but sitting on the seat next to him.

“I can’t eat this,” Cas said, pushing the chunk back toward Dean. “That’s yours.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, not forcing the protein bar on him again.

Cas didn’t want to look at him, so he didn’t. Instead, he studied his hands and the table and really anything but Dean. “Nothing,” he repeated.

Dean shrugged and popped the chunk into his mouth, pushing himself to his feet and walking back to his table. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

And then Cas felt bad for shutting Dean out, for pushing him away when Dean only wanted to help. And that made him even worse of a person. So he swallowed and turned around so that he was facing Dean and looked up.

“I just feel bad,” he started. “That . . . . I’ve forced you through so much, just so that I could figure stuff out. Just so that I could get this far.”

“Just so that _we_ could get this far,” Dean said. He broke one of the other chunks of his bar into two smaller pieces and ate one. “We’ve both come a long way.” He licked his fingers and took a sip of his soda. “You realize this isn’t all about you, right?”

Cas flushed hot and embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry,” he said.

Dean shrugged. “It’s nothing against you,” he said. “It’s just—you know, we’re all flying by the seats of our pants here, making things up at we go. Nobody really knows what they’re doing, and everyone is just trying their best.” He looked up suddenly and then snapped his mouth shut as Abuela Astella returned to her seat, carrying her bag of finished laundry.

Cas quickly turned back to his table as well, not wanting to push Dean to talk while Abuela Astella was around. She sat down without a word and carefully set her half smoked joint aside so that she could start folding like always. Cas watched her silently.

“Tell your _puta_ that I am not scary,” she said, setting aside the shirt she just finished. “And that I don’t know why he doesn’t like me.”

“Dean doesn’t like a lot of people,” Cas lied quickly, and while Abuela Astella was looking down to grab another shirt, he shot Dean a conspiratorial smile. “He’s always been more quiet than talkative.”

Abuela Astella shrugged. “If you say so,” she said, not catching their exchange.

When Cas looked at Dean again, he was smiling down at the rest of his protein bar. So then Cas was smiling again too, because sharing something like that with someone was a nice feeling. It made him giddy.

Cas sat straight in his chair again so that he was facing Abuela Astella again. He folded his hands on the table and did his best to get control of his face again. And that’s when he realized, that things were going to be okay.

If he could do _this_ —if he could run away from home to protect the person he loved—then he could make it. He could share a life and a space with that person. He could put himself beside and become more than himself. He could let himself feel for that person and acknowledge that feeling as love.

He could love Dean, and just thinking that made his stomach twist up and his cheeks go hot. Cas was pretty sure he smelled too much like licorice right now. But he didn’t really care.

 


	23. Look at Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was one of my favorite ones to write ^-^

Dean had to suppress a smile when Cas packed up his clothes and the entire bathroom three days early to the day they would actually be moving. It was encouraging to see him get excited over such a small thing. To Dean, it was just another place that he would have to occupy. A house, especially one without Sam, would never really be home to him.

Even though Cas would be there.

Dean glanced over to where Cas was packing up the parts of their kitchen that he deemed unimportant enough that they wouldn’t need it until they moved house. Apparently, they wouldn’t need plates or mugs or the tea or any of the cereal.

Cas always focused so intently on every task he dealt with no matter what it was. Even now, he didn’t seem to realize Dean was staring at him, just continued to focus on stuffing boxes as tightly as he could into a bag.

He was adorable in that sort of sense, so focused and filled with a certain intensity. If he smelled any more interested in Dean rather than cereal, Dean would want to bend Cas over and do something more with him.

Dean quickly looked back to the dishes, focusing on scrubbing the bowl he was holding extra hard. He felt slightly ashamed, because Cas never expressed any sort of interest in him like that. Not since going on the run. Dean respected that, because he didn’t really want to be touched anyway.

He looked over at Cas again just in time to see him finish fitting the boxes all in one bag and looking extremely satisfied with himself.

Dean imagined what he would look like laying in bed, waiting for Dean to come home from work. Dean imagined Cas cooking and cleaning like a normal omega. Being a parent to their many kids like a normal omega. Letting Dean be an alpha like a normal omega.

But the thought was much too weird and it made Dean’s skin crawl. He never really put much thought into what life would be like if he and Cas were traditionally mated. Family.

Ew.

That wasn’t what family was about. _That_ was a relationship and Cas . . . . wasn’t a relationship, not that sort of relationship. He was something a bit more.

Because instead of fucking and screwing and handcuffs and unwanted things in the ass, Cas was dinner and long drives and conversations no matter how awkward. He was something besides sex and Dean realized that he kind of liked it that way. And yeah, while he did want a hole to fuck and knot, he didn’t want Cas to be that person.

“You nervous?” he asked because he wanted some conversation to get his mind off of his current train of thought.

“I’m actually excited,” Cas said, picking up the bag and moving it across the kitchen. He left in the pile already by the door, and it joined all the other bags of food and clothes and household stuff. He smiled at Dean. “Like, really excited.”

Which was funny because, when Dean scented the air of the apartment, it was very clearly obvious that Cas was nervous. He didn’t look like it, but he certainly did smell like it. Dean was slightly confused, wondering if Cas was doing it on purpose or if he himself didn’t understand what he was feeling.

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Dean admitted, if just to keep the conversation going. He didn’t want the room to relapse into silence quite yet. “Pretty soon, we’ll be in a real home, and you’ll have your real job.” _I will be talking with Sam and he will be better._ Dean didn’t say that part.

Secretly, he held onto the hope that he would be able to see Sam again instead of just talking with him. Dean needed to _see_ him just to make sure that everything was okay and that Gabe was treating him the way that Sam deserved to be treated.

He shook water off the last bowl and set it aside to dry. He wiped off his hands and turned to see if Cas needed help with anything else. Cas was sort of like that. If you left him alone with nothing to do, he got into some sort of trouble.

“Should we pack up the living room too?” Cas asked, studying the couch with its pillows and cushions critically.

“Well,” Dean said. “We aren’t taking the couch with us. So we just need to pack the cushions and stuff.”

Cas nodded. “Then I’m going to do it,” he said. And just like that, he was grabbing a couple more plastic bags from the kitchen and stuffing the pillows and blankets inside and putting the full bags by the door. He worked so quickly that Dean didn’t even have the chance to step forward and help him.

He watched Cas work, crouching down and standing back up and moving so easily. It was a bit strange to see Cas moving so confidently. Whereas, in public, he was usually very careful about how he moved and how much space he took up.

Dean swallowed. “Hey, Cas,” he said, talking before he had the chance to double think his words. “Do you think we’ll ever go back to your home?”

Cas stiffened at the question, scent going slightly lemon sour, and he didn’t look up from his task. “What do you mean?” he said. He smelled like he was lying, like he knew exactly what Dean was talking about but didn’t really want to.

“I mean,” Dean said, being very clear so that Cas didn’t have to chance to twist his words. “Are we ever going back to Sam? Are we going to bring him with us?”

“Dean,” Cas said, looking up briefly from his bags but then quickly back down. He then looked back up with a smile that looked half fake and smelled half forced. “We don’t need to bring Sam with us. He’s . . . he’s okay where he is.”

Dean frowned. Because Sam wasn’t okay if he wasn’t with Dean. And Dean wasn’t okay if Sam wasn’t with him.

“I want Sam here,” Dean said, knowing that he sounded childish but also knowing that Cas wouldn’t say anything about that. “He can come with us.”

“He doesn’t _need_ to come with us,” Cas repeated.

“He can sleep with me,” Dean said. “On the couch, whatever.”

“He doesn’t need to do that,” Cas said. “Dean, he’s _fine_.”

Dean almost growled. Almost. He caught himself at the last second, not wanting to scare Cas or anything. Instead, he only frowned and turned away. He let himself step out of the living room and into the kitchen, even though there was nothing to do in the kitchen.

He leaned against the counter, glaring down at his knuckles as he squeezed his hands into fists. He barely even hear Cas move from the carpet to the tile until Cas was grabbing the wallet and phone that always sat on the countertop.  

“Come on,” Cas said, stuffing his feet into his shoes and grabbing the knob of the door.

Dean looked up, caught off guard enough to be more surprised than angry. And then Cas was opening the door and stepping outside, leaving the apartment which made Dean’s heart rate jump up. He rushed after Cas without thinking.

“Where are you going?!” he asked, watching as Cas dialed some number in his phone and brought it to his ear.

He completely ignored Dean, instead walking straight out across the lawn while fishing money out of his wallet.

“Hey!” Dean said. He had to pause to pull on his own shoes and had to hop out the door while still yanking one on. He made sure the door was locked behind him before jogging after Cas, wondering what had gotten into the omega. “Cas!”  

His heart jumped in a moment of panic when a car pulled up to the curb beside Cas, but it was only a taxi. Cas climbed in without flinching or looking at Dean, and Dean was left scrambling to get in the other side. By the time he was pulling his door closed, Cas was already showing his phone to the driver.

“Here, please,” he was saying, and Dean was left without a clue to where they were going.

Cas’s scent didn’t give anything away either, and the omega driver—who shot him a dirty look over his shoulder—pulled out into the street without a word.

“Cas,” Dean said softly, wondering if he was allowed to speak in the presence of the other omega. Of course, Cas didn’t know it was another omega, only Dean did. Still, Dean kept his voice down. “Um, where are we going?”

“We’re going where you want,” Cas snapped.

Was that a snap? Snappish? Now Dean was second guessing himself and Cas. He scented the air carefully, panting through his open mouth before realizing how awkward that both sounded and looked so he shut his mouth.

Going where Dean wanted? Where was that?

Dean felt his heart skip a beat.

To Sam? Were they going to Sam?!

“Cas,” Dean whispered. “Are we going to _Sam_?”

Cas’s scent went lemon sharp and sour, but then he glanced over at Dean and it immediately went to licorice. His cheeks went pink too, just a little, and he gave a noncommittal shrug, his hands fidgeting his lap. Even though he was acting nervous, his scent remained stubbornly licorice.

“It’s what you want, right?” he said, just as quiet as Dean.

Dean didn't know what to say. Hell _yes_! That's exactly what he wanted! He wanted to see Sam and be with Sam and make sure Sam was okay. He wanted to see if Gabe was keeping his word and if Lucifer was still there or not. He wanted to see Sam okay. But what if Sam wasn't okay? What would Dean do then?

Dean wanted so much for Sam to be okay that he wasn't quite sure what he would do if Sam _wasn't_ okay.

Dean would rip the house apart. He would make Cas scared and terrified, and Dean didn't want to do that, even accidentally.

He reached across the seat space between them and grabbed Cas's hand, grateful when he didn't flinch at the contact.

“Yeah,” he said in answer to Cas's question, his voice rough even to his own ears. “Yeah, that's what I want.”

Cas gave him a smile then and squeezed his hand back. “You'll see that Sam's okay,” he said. “And then we can go _home_.”

Dean still was hesitant to use that word, but for Cas's sake, he nodded and repeated it. “Home.”

They held hands then, unwittingly. Dean just didn't pull away and Cas didn't let go. The driver, although he was glaring darkly at the road in front of them, didn't say anything either. The rest of the drive, in fact, was basically quiet. The driver didn't even turn on the radio. Dean was just left to feel his heart beat faster and faster until they pulled to a stop right in front of the huge mansion.

Dean looked up at the imposing house, remembering how he felt first arriving. The place had seemed impossible to handle back then, so terrifying in its prospect of omegas and working and doing things he never wanted to do. Dean never imagined that he would ever be eager to go back inside such a place.

He pulled away from Cas and was opening the door before the driver had even shifted into park.

“You two need a damn room,” he heard the driver mutter at the last second. “Sexual tension like a motherfucker. Stinks.”

Dean ignored his comments and instead slammed the door maybe a little harder than necessary. Cas was climbing out of the car a moment later, and Dean hurried after him as they rushed up to the front doors together.

Cas paused with his hand half-raised, as if trying to decide between the doorbell and the door knob. After a couple moments of hesitation, he grabbed the front knob and yanked it open.

Dean half expected it to be locked but no, it swung open easily and they were inside. Dean rushed in first, pushing past Cas in his eagerness to get inside. All of the scents of the house hit him at once, and Dean was left reeling for a moment.

The scent of the beta cleaners was probably the strongest. It lingered in the halls both stale and fresh and covered everything else like a hazy film. Underneath it, of course, Dean could pick out alpha and omega scents. Gabriel and Sam. Lucifer was so faint that Dean relaxed for a moment.

And then he realized why the spiced scent of omega was so familiar. Because he had smelled it before. Because Cas had smelled like that before and it was a hard-to-ignore smell. It was making Dean hard.

It was omega in heat.

And that sent chills down his back and panic racing through is mind. Where was Sam? Where was Sam? Where was Sam?! Dean rushed into the house, scenting wildly for any sign of his brother or Gabe or Lucifer.

“Dean!” Cas called, but Dean ignored him.

He could only think of Sam and finding Sam and making sure Sam was okay. He ran through the halls, heading for the most familiar rooms and scenting for Sam along the way. The smell of the cleaners changed every few steps it seemed, fading in and out. There was Lucifer, from days ago, nothing recent. It was almost a relief.

Until Dean rounded the corner to the kitchen and reeled at the scent—and sight—of Gabe sprawled out on the table, shorts yanked practically off, hanging off one of his ankles, and shirt hiked up to his chest. He had his legs wrapped around Sam’s waist.

They were fucking. And not even trying to be subtle about it.

Sam was wearing more clothes than Gabe was. His sweatpants were pulled down just enough so that his dick was out, but Dean cringed at that. He didn’t want to think of Sam that way. Sam was his _brother_.

But Gabe. Holy fuck, _Gabe_. The omega was moaning and gasping, smelling just like Cas had except _more_ and _sweeter_ and _hotter_.

“Oh! Sam!” he was saying, his entire body rocking with the force of Sam’s thrusts. “ _Fuck_ me! Harder!”

Sam, with a wolfish grin splitting his face, obliged the omega, neither of them noticing Dean apparently. Sam leaned over Gabe, palms planted on either side of his face so that he could only look up. They stared into each other’s eyes, completely and utterly caught up in the moment.

“Hold still,” Sam said, practically crooning into Gabe’s ear. “I’m almost there.”

“Sam,” Dean blurted, not sure if he wanted to witness what was about to happen.

“Oh fuck!” Gabe said, shoving Sam’s shoulders up and away.

Sam hissed through clenched teeth and pulled away. He turned his back to Dean as he doubled over, knotting his fist instead of Gabe’s hole. Gabe was scrambling off the table and yanking his own shorts back up as his face when bright red.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Gabe demanded, putting himself in between Dean and Sam as if he were protecting Sam. As if he _could_ protect Sam.

Dean shrank back anyway, even though the omega was half his size and if Dean wanted, he could tear through Gabe like he was nothing. He backpedaled right into Cas’s arms and then almost tripped over his own feet. At least he was pretty sure Cas didn’t have to see what he had seen.

“Gabe! It’s just us!” Cas said, pushing his way around Dean so that he was between Gabe and Dean. Like _he_ could protect Dean.

“I know it’s fucking you,” Gabe said, his face still bright red. “But _what_ are you doing here?!”

Dean gulped. Cas couldn’t smell how much they stank of sex.

“We came to visit,” Cas said, looking back and forth between Dean and Sam and Gabe, trying to figure out why the situation was so awkward. “The door was open so we just came in . . .”

Sam washed his hands in the sink, keeping his back carefully to Dean and Cas. He dried his hands and then quickly adjusted his pants before turning around.

“Dean!” he exclaimed. He shoved past Gabe and then shoved past Cas too.

Dean grabbed him in a tight hug despite the fact that Sam smelled more like Gabe than himself. He hugged Sam tight and never wanted to let go, ever. Never again, never ever. He scented Sam gently and roughly and tenderly and sweetly. He rubbed his cheek on Sam’s scent glands, just so that he would smell more normal, more like Dean than like Gabe.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Dean whispered. “Because I was so scared.”

“I’m fine,” Sam murmured back.

Dean didn’t believe him.

He looked up, catching Cas’s eye and silently begging him to give him time alone with Sam. Surprisingly, Cas understood him and grabbed Gabe’s arm, yanking him towards the door.

“Come on, Gabe,” he said. “Let’s leave them alone.”

Okay, he could have been a bit more subtle about it, but at least Gabe left the room even though he was glaring at Dean the entire way. And then Dean and Sam were all alone, and Dean scented Sam with no abandon, making him smell less like a stranger and more like he was supposed to.

“I’ve been so fucking worried,” he mumbled against Sam’s skin. “But I couldn’t come back because Cas needed help and I couldn’t just leave him and fuck, these are just excuses. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner, Sam.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s okay,” Sam said, scenting him back just like he always did, like a little kit who was just learning how to. He smelled less and less like sex and more and more like Sam. “There was stuff. With Lucifer. But he’s gone. It’s okay now.”

Dean pushed Sam away, holding him at arm’s length. He gave his brother a stern look. “Gabe?” he said.

Sam looked shyly at his feet, fingers twitching against the fabric of Dean’s shirt where his hands rested on his neck. “He’s a good mate,” he said, smelling like he was telling the truth. “He’s. . . . doing his best and we’re okay.” He looked up and locked eyes with Dean. “ _Honestly_ ,” he added. “So don’t, like, tear him apart. Please?”

“He’d better,” Dean said with a soft growl, pulling Sam back into a hug. “Because you deserve to be treated good. Not like a toy or anything.”

“Gabe is a nice mate,” Sam mumbled against Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“Cas and I are moving into a new apartment,” Dean said. “Not back here. Will that be okay?”

Sam didn’t say anything for a few moments, and then he sighed. “I guess thinking that we can always be together isn’t realistic anyway,” he said. “I mean, I’d love to. I never want to leave you, Dean. But—”

“But life isn’t like that,” Dean finished. “I get it. And Cas is nice too. I’m sure he’ll let us visit and talk and see each other.” He laughed. “I think he’s working through omega stuff.”

Sam laughed too. “Omegas are so weird,” he said.

Dean’s heart lurched and he suddenly wanted the moment to never end. This is what he had been missing this entire time. Sure Cas was nice and talked with him like an equal and didn’t force Dean to do anything he didn’t want to, but there was something about being around another alpha. Dean scented Sam one last time and then let him go before he could get too emotional.

“Look at us,” he said. He meant it in a way that was crazy. How he and Sam were where they were. How they had gotten there. How they were falling apart and pulling each other back together.

Sam only smiled and nodded, like he understood what Dean meant but didn’t want to interpret it that way. “But look at us,” he said.

He meant it in a different way. Like how he and Dean had come so far. Like how they had survived. Like how they still had each other and still had so much. It was a contrast, obviously.

Look at their lives. Really, look at them. Amazing.

Dean gave Sam a lopsided, embarrassed smile, not sure if he was ready to start thinking of himself as that kind of strong. But still, it was nice. To acknowledge that he did have that strength inside him, all this time. Like some sort of fairy tale, where the answer was friendship.

Dean decided that he wanted to like the ending of his and Sam’s stories. He decided that he would make them happy no matter what, even if the answer _wasn’t_ friendship. He would make things work, because he had made them work so far and he would just have to keep doing that even more.


	24. Bitch

“Cas!” Dean yelled. “I think the living room boxes ended up in the bedroom!”

How that had happened, Dean wasn’t quite sure. Honestly, they had about three boxes to move. How did they get mixed up in different rooms? It was impossible, but they somehow managed it.

“No!” Cas yelled back, because he had gotten more comfortable with being loud and taking up space. “The living room boxes are still by the door! I haven’t taken them up yet!”

Dean frowned. Wait, that didn’t make sense. He was pretty sure he had grabbed boxes. He turned around and walked down the hall back to the room he had just left.

The new apartment was strange. It was an apartment, sure, but it also had two different floors, wide open spaces, and excellent furnishings already supplied. Beds, chairs, tables, and couches were already there when Dean and Cas unloaded the meager boxes of their own belongings. It was the same, expensive taste that Cas must be used to.

All the pale tans, blues, and greys made the place both minimalistic and tasteful. Already, in the first couple minutes of their being there, Cas had run his fingers over every surface, oohing and ahhing at the fabrics of the curtains and cushions and the countertops and tile floors. He talked endlessly about how nice it was compared to the other place.

Dean didn’t really care, but as long as Cas was happy, then he was grateful for the new place too. And it was nice knowing that if Cas wandered out by himself, there was no one who would want to hurt him. Dean could definitely appreciate a safe neighborhood.

Plus, the fridge was twice as big here as it was as the old space.  

Dean double checked the boxes in the bedroom and, sure enough, they were the right ones. And now he knew they were the right ones because they smelled so strongly of licorice. Dean frowned, wondering how he had made the mistake. He was just about to shout to Cas to ask if any other boxes had been switched around, when the doorbell rang, making him jump.

The crisp, two-note song echoed through the home, something that Dean still wasn’t used to. The old place didn’t have that and no one visited Cas when he was still living with Gabe. This house, though, was proper. Cas said it was.

“Got it!” Cas yelled, and Dean listened to his footsteps as he rushed to the door.

Dean hurried down the stairs anyway, concerned with who was at the door and if Cas should really be talking with them. He paused at the base of the stairs, hesitating behind the corner, not wanting to show himself.

Whoever was at the door smelled like an omega. Two of them. Male and female.

“We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” the woman was saying. “We saw the, em, moving truck and thought we’d stop by to say hello.”

“Oh,” Cas replied. “Thank you. My name is Cast—”

“Do you have an alpha?” the man asked.

There was a sound of a hand hitting an arm, and the woman tsked.

“Paul!” the woman exclaimed. “Don’t be rude.”

“It’s not rude,” the man, Paul, said. “Besides, he smells like it, and I was just wondering.”

“It’s rude if he _doesn’t_ have an alpha,” the woman hissed through clenched teeth.

Cas was starting to smell embarrassed at this point, and Dean debated stepping out to help him. But the conversation was continuing before he could move.

“Um, I do have an alpha,” Cas said. “His name is Dean and—”

“See, Beth?” Paul said. “He does have an alpha. Not rude at all.”

“Paul,” Beth said, her tone of voice and her scent of irritation warning him to shut his mouth. “Ignore my husband. I was wondering if you would want to come over for dinner tonight. I’m sure with moving and everything, meals are hard to prepare and we always make plenty to eat.”

“Oh!” Cas said. “Well, sure. That would be great actually.”

Dean cringed, wishing he was there to tell Cas that he didn’t want to go.

“We have an alpha of our own,” Beth continued. “And I’m sure he will get along great with yours. Plus, they can keep each other occupied while we talk and all. You know how alphas are.”

“Yeah,” Cas said. “Thank you for the invitation. What time should we be over?”

“We eat dinner late,” Beth said. “Is six o’clock okay? We could eat around five thirty if it is.”

“Six is great,” Cas said, and once again, Dean wasn’t there to tell him no.

“Beth makes amazing breadsticks,” Paul said. “We’ll have lasagna and I’ll get out a bottle of whiskey. It’ll be great.”

“Thank you,” Cas repeated, his scent mellowing out as the omegas said their goodbyes, and then the door clicked shut and everything faded back.

Dean stepped out from behind the corner then and spotted the small basket of soaps in Cas’s hands.

“Look,” Cas said proudly, holding up the gift. “Our neighbors are nice.”

Dean walked over and took the basket, wrinkling his nose as citrus and fresh laundry invaded his senses. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell Cas the gift was horrible. In fact, if Dean wasn’t being so cynical, the soaps were actually very nice. Dean smiled and nodded. 

“I can put them in the bathroom,” he offered and turned to do just that.

“Oh,” Cas said, making his stop halfway to the stairs. “I didn’t think about you. About going over. Is that going to be alright? Going over to the neighbor’s for dinner?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “They sounded nice, and what’s the worst that can happen?”

Cas’s scent was all worry which reassured Dean more than ever. He cared and he was thinking and he was trying. But Dean didn’t want him to fret or break himself down.

“It’ll be fun,” Dean said. “Come on, we should try to unpack as much as possible before then.” And keeping Cas busy meant less time the omega spent worrying over Dean or himself.

So they went back to unpacking.

It was awkward to fill the huge space with their meager possessions. The dishes and utensils that had to be crammed in the cupboards at their old place now only filled a few drawers and racks here. The food and containers fit way too easily. The pillows and cushions went on the beds and couches and the bathroom had to be restocked all over.

Cas took the chance to take a shower and emerge with a towel around his waist and another around his shoulders. He was beaming, hair dripping down his forehead, smelling like fresh shampoo and happiness. Dean wasn’t quite sure if the apples was the soap or just Cas.

“The water pressure is amazing,” Cas said. “You have to give it a try.”

He pushed Dean into the bathroom before he could protest and closed the door behind him. And Dean found himself fumbling with the knobs and tabs, trying to get the shower to work right and then the water at the right temperature.

He peeled off his clothes and realized that he stunk a lot more than he thought. Cas wasn’t able to tell him, and Dean just now became aware of the stench that seemed to seep off his body. Sweat and stress made his tongue curl in his mouth, and he stepped under the spray of water before he could linger too long on his reflection.

The water pressure was amazing, just like Cas said. It was like getting a massage, and Dean took a moment to just stand under the spray and relish in that. Then he set about soaping up a washcloth and getting to work. Grey suds and other grime sloughed off him in waves as he worked his way from top to bottom, running down the drain in dirty rivulets.

He shampooed his hair and washed that. Then he repeated it just because he felt that dirty. By the time he was done, his skin was pink and flushed and Dean felt much better about himself. He shut the water off and swung the curtain open, searching for a towel.

And that’s when he made eye contact with his reflection and he paused.

He didn’t recognize himself for a moment, actually. His eyes were darker, his hair getting a bit out of control, and his body marked in a way he never thought it would be. His muscle had faded after leaving the camps. He didn’t get the same kind of work out from scrubbing dishes and floors. He had a couple old scars from both the camps and the facility that would probably fade with time but for now, were prominent white and slightly raised.

Dean tilted his head and ran his fingers over his scent glands. He twisted to get a better look at his back and shoulders and had to awkwardly crane his neck to try to see. His back, surprisingly, was mostly unmarked, pink from the shower and smattered with freckles, but otherwise clean. So Dean straightened again and stared himself straight in the eyes.

He squared up his shoulder, puffing out his chest, as if trying to stare himself down.

“Bitch,” he growled, narrowing his eyes with his reflection said the same thing. “Look at you.”

Dean looked down at his limp, pale body, something like a newborn but disproportioned and horribly overgrown. He looked back up at his reflection.

“Look at you,” he whispered. He stared at his eyes and then around himself at the bathroom, the clean tile, the amazing lack of mold or grime. He looked back to his face. “Here.” He sighed and closed his eyes, placing his hands on the cool countertop to ground himself. “You’re here.”

Staring at himself too long made him feel unreal. Like that wasn’t him, standing there in the bathroom, clean and happy. Like that wasn’t his body, like he was an outsider, like he was watching a movie.

Dean gripped the counter and steadied himself, taking a moment to just breathe before grabbing a towel from off of the rack and draping it over his head. He scrubbed his hair dry and then his face, making his way quickly down his body to get what hadn’t already dripped off. He then stooped to quickly grab his clothes before realizing they were too dirty to put back on.

He secured the towel around his waist and then cautiously opened the door, wondering where Cas was in the apartment. He wandered out, careful of his towel, and scented the air, but it was hard to smell anything past the soap and shampoo. Dean wandered down the hall to the kitchen and found Cas dressed and putting food away in the fridge.

“Clothes are in the bedroom,” he said without looking up. “I got them out of the boxes and in the dresser. Your stuff should be on the to-op. . . .”

He trailed off when he looked up, his scent switching so strongly to licorice that Dean couldn’t help but smile. His own cheeks when hot, knowing that Cas was staring at him, at his body, in just a towel.

“Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting—you look—nothing. I mean nothing. Clothes. Bedroom. Okay?” His voice squeaked up at the end, and he shut the refrigerator and turned quickly away from Dean.

“Thanks,” Dean said, shuffling his feet and moving through the living room to the stairs. “Um, licorice.” He glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure Cas heard, which was what their agreement was.

Cas was leaning against the counter, covering his face with his hands out of pure embarrassment. His scent remained strongly of licorice, and Dean could see the edge of his blush on his ears and trailing down his neck.

“I know,” Cas mumbled. “I know.”

“It’s okay,” Dean said and then hurried up the stairs so that Cas could have some privacy.

Just like Cas said, his clothes were in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. It was a pathetic amount, but Dean enjoyed the chance to choose what he wanted to put on. He grabbed a t-shirt and sweatpants, and then changed his mind because they would be leaving the apartment later and chose grey jeans instead. He dressed quickly, making sure he didn’t leave the towel on the floor and steeled himself for going back downstairs.

Not that he was scared of Cas. More like Cas seemed to be scared of him.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Cas was still in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water and staring absentmindedly at the wall above the sink. He looked up when Dean stepped into the living room, and his cheeks went a bit pink. He still smelled like licorice but mostly faded by now.

“The shower was nice,” Dean said.

“It is,” Cas said, loudly and on purpose, like he wanted to erase the thing that had happened moments before. “I, um, really like it.”

Dean smiled to himself. “It’s fine,” he said, walking over to the cupboards and getting a cup of his own. He filled it with water from the sink and leaned back against the counter on his own. “You know, to stare. I’m used to it.”

Cas wouldn’t look at him, instead choosing to stare at his feet. “It doesn’t feel right,” he said. “To you, I mean. It’s just—this is what _I_ feel, and it’s something that’s . . . me, I guess.”

“It’s me too,” Dean said quickly. “It’s . . . . I love you too, you know.”

Cas’s face went instantly red again, and his scent flushed licorice too, his gazing whipping up to Dean’s face. “Don’t say that!” he said, moving to set his cup down so fast that water sloshed out of the brim and onto the counter. “You don’t. . . . have to.” He looked back down at his feet. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Dean shrugged and downed the rest of his own water, setting his cup aside gently. “I love you,” he said. “I’m going to see if I can get the washing machine working to start a load of laundry.”

He left Cas a sputtering, licorice-smelling mess, and he had to admit, it was pretty funny. And satisfying. And Dean wasn’t quite ready to deal with the consequences of saying what he had just said so running away right away was a good escape.

He did find the small laundry/storage room, with both a washing machine, dryer, and empty shelves waiting to be filled with cleaning supplies. It took a several minutes to figure out how to manage the settings, but once he did, Dean gathered up the towels from the bedroom and bathroom as well as his own dirty clothes and started a small load.

He avoided Cas for the most part. Or maybe Cas avoided him. Dean wasn’t quite sure which it was really. All he knew was that he didn’t see much of Cas until he was calling him to get ready because it was almost time to leave.

Dean was already dressed, but he still took a moment to straighten out his shirt and pants. He pulled on his working vest, even though he wasn't sure if Cas wanted him to wear it or not before heading downstairs to meet Cas at the door.

Cas was much more put together, dressed in his own nice clothes, shoes already on. He didn't say anything about Dean's vest, so Dean quickly pulled his own shoes on, and they stepped out of the apartment together.

The building they were living in had well-kept hallways connecting all the apartments. The burgundy carpet and wood paneled walls made a stark contrast to the inside of their apartment, the atmosphere warm and serious rather than light and homely.

Cas lead the way one door to their left and hit the doorbell before stepping back to wait. It didn't take long before Dean heard footsteps and the door was opened to reveal Beth.  

Beth was a portly omega a little shorter than Cas with rosy cheeks and blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She wore a t-shirt and khaki capris and slippers over her feet. She enthusiastically greeted Cas before turning her attention to Dean.

“And what a handsome, young alpha you are,” she said, beaming from ear to ear. “You and Elliot will get along _great_ , I'm sure. Come in, come in!”

Cas walked into their home without flinching. Dean proceeded with a bit more caution.

“Elliot!” Beth yelled, walking further into the house. “Come down and say hello to our new neighbors!”

The place smelled like lasagna and alpha and omega. It was decorated vastly different than their own apartment with framed embroidered pieces and throw pillows and blankets. There were extra chairs and end tables and racks at random places as well as fake fruit and odd decorations here and there as well. It was a modern home that made Dean scared of touching everything.

“Have a seat,” Paul said, appearing out of the kitchen with two stout glasses of amber liquid. “Cas, right? You drink whiskey?”

Paul was less stocky than Beth but still on the heavier end. He had short brown hair styled in a business like fashion, but he was dressed in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and socks. Dean wasn’t sure if he had been the one cooking, but he smelled strongly of meat and spices.

“Um, sure, thank you,” Cas said, accepting the cup from Paul and following him to the sofa.

Dean wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, so he hovered close by. He didn’t sit down, knowing that he probably wasn’t allowed on the furniture and certainly not wanting to sit on the floor.

“Eli!” Beth called again. “I said come!”

Dean stiffened at the scent of a new alpha, turning and not sure what to expect.

Elliot—Eli—was a tiny alpha. At least, that was Dean’s first thought. Maybe he was underfed or maybe he was just young, but he was shorter than Dean and Cas and skinnier than Paul and Beth. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. He made brief eye contact with Dean, then ducked his head and hurried to Beth's side. He tried hiding behind her, but she nudged him encouragingly towards Dean.

“Go on, Eli,” Beth said. “I need to get things ready in the kitchen. You show your new friend around.”

Eli whined, and Beth swatted him on the arm.

“None of that,” she said sternly. “Go on.”

“Fine,” Eli muttered, taking a step in Dean's direction and looking up long enough to meet his gaze. “I'm Eli.”

“Dean,” Dean said, not sure if he should offer his hand for a handshake or not.  

“He some medical thing?” Paul asked from where he was sprawled on the couch. “Is it okay if Eli takes him up to his room?”

“Oh,” Cas said. “Yeah, I don't need him near me the entire time.” He twisted in his own seat and gave Dean an encouraging smile. “You can go.”

Dean didn't want to go but he dutifully followed Eli down a hall, up a flight of stairs, and to a room that looked like it was decorated for a kit. Dean stopped in the doorway, not entirely sure if he was comfortable in the room or not.

The walls were all painted a faded baby blue and decorated with stickers of sailboats, suns, and waves. Eli's bed had several pillows and stuffed animals propped on the headboard, and toys were strewn across the floor. The entire room was styled for a little boy, even though Eli had to be at least as old as Dean, _maybe_ a little younger.

“Are you okay?” Dean blurted as Eli grabbed a well-worn Teddy Bear off the bed and hugged it to his chest.

Eli gave him a strange look. “'M fine,” he said, plopping down on the floor with his back against the wall.

“Your omegas,” Dean said, being careful to keep his voice down. “Do they treat you okay?”

Eli blinked and suddenly smelled sad, so much so that Dean felt his heart wrench in his chest and his throat close up.

“They do,” Eli said quietly, his eyes clearing up as he seemed to wake up from whatever stupor he had been in. “I mean. I could be treated worse. They can't have kids of their own so they bought me. It's not a bad life, and they don't ever touch me—” He made a vague gesture to his crotch. “ _Like_ that. They just treat me like a little kit.”

“Weird,” Dean said, making his way across the room and sitting down across from him. “You like it?”

Eli shrugged. “I basically just have to act like a toddler,” he said. “Which means I can throw tantrums. Not in public, but it's really satisfying to stomp your foot and yell no every time you have to take a bath.” He smiled and laughed to himself, tugging idly on the teddy bear’s ears. “Or whenever they try to make me eat something I don't like.”

Dean smiled, because that _did_ sound satisfying.

“What about you?” Eli asked, tapping his shirt in the same place where the medical symbol on Dean's vest was. “What's that for?”

“Oh,” Dean said, looking down at his vest and tugging it down a bit. “I’m a Medical Alpha. My omega, Cas, he can't smell, so I help him with different things. Mostly it's telling him who's an alpha, who's a beta, and who's an omega.”

Eli wrinkled his nose and hugged his teddy bear tighter. “Strange,” he said. “I can't imagine not smelling. Does he act weird at all?”

Now it was Dean's turn to laugh. “Oh, yeah, he does,” he said and then felt bad about making fun of Cas. “I mean, nothing horrible, but he sometimes doesn't realize that I can smell him even though he can't smell me.”

Eli laughed with him, and Dean relaxed a bit more.

“That's good,” Eli said. “I was scared you were going to be, like, a sex thing.” He lowered his voice even more. “You know how omegas are.”

Dean grinned. “I thought _you_ were some sort of sex thing,” he said.  

And they laughed together again.

“Eli! Dean!” Beth called from somewhere else in the house. “Dinner's ready!”

“Come on,” Eli said, tossing the teddy bear aside and jumping to his feet. “Dad—Paul makes really good lasagna.”

Dean followed his down the stairs, greeted by the sight of Cas already sitting at the table, having his glass refilled by Paul.

“He can sit at the table, right?” Beth was asking as she was already dragging a chair up to the table.

“Oh, of course,” Cas said, scouting over so the chair could for next to his.

“Do you like your new friend, Eli?” she asked, fitting the chair in place and moving the plate and utensils in front of it.

“Yes,” Eli replied cheerily, his voice high and childish, definitely different from when he was talking with Dean. “We're best friends.”

“Well that's good,” Beth said. “Grab the pitcher of water from the fridge, Dear, I don't let Eli drinking juice so late at night.” She gave Cas a smile as if he knew all about dealing with little kids. “Not with guests over.”

Paul obliged, setting the bottle of whiskey on the counter and grabbing a plastic jug of water from the fridge. He poured two cups of water, setting one in front of Eli and the other in front of Dean. He then set the jug down in the center of the table and took his seat.

Beth dished up the lasagna, serving thick slices onto her own plate as well as Cas’s and Paul’s. She served significantly smaller slices onto Eli’s and Dean’s plates. She also made sure Eli got a generous scooping of steamed vegetables as well. Cas scooped vegetables onto his own plate and then made sure Dean got some as well. Paul skipped vegetables and went straight to grabbing a little bit more of the lasagna instead.

“Dig in,” Beth prompted.

Dean still waited until Cas gave him a nod before grabbing his fork and taking a bite. And it was just like Eli said. The lasagna was damn amazing. Dean chewed as quickly as he dared and took another bite, trying to have good table manners while still trying to eat as fast as possible. Could he have seconds? He was two bites in and already wanted more.

“We really hope you’ll like the neighborhood,” Beth said, taking much slower, more dignified bites of her own meal. “The people here really are nice. The alphas are quiet.”

“I’m really liking everything so far,” Cas said, pausing in his own eating to take a sip of whiskey. “And this lasagna is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Paul said proudly. “It’s a family recipe. We always make it for guests.”

“We can send you home with a couple containers,” Beth immediately offered. “And if we can help you with anything, our door is always open.” She smiled at Cas warmly. “I’m even willing to alpha-sit for you. And Eli is always so lonely.”

Cas paused mid-bite but then stuffed the mouthful into his cheek and began chewing quickly. His scent went a little wild, but he was recovering before Dean had the chance to worry. “I think I’ll be fine,” he said. “But thanks for the offer.”

The rest of the dinner continued with normal conversation. Beth and Paul asking questions about what Cas did for a living, what he thought of the neighborhood, and how long he had had Dean. Cas replied with polite answers, asking his own in return—how long had they lived here, if they thought the neighborhood was nice, what the best place to go shopping was.

Dean and Eli shared small looks when they could, sneaking smiles. Eli politely asked for more vegetables when he finished everything on his plate, and Beth served him some, warning that if he ate too much he would have a stomach ache. Dean didn’t ask for seconds.

Cas declined a third cup of whiskey from Paul, saying that they need to go home. Dean was glad. As much as he wanted to talk more with Eli, being under Beth’s constant fret and attention was exhausting, and Dean knew that the moment he wasn’t the picture-perfect alpha, she would use that against him.

When they finally returned to their own apartment, both Dean and Cas sighed and slumped down. They shared a look then, Cas smiling and Dean too.

“Stressful?” Cas said.

Dean nodded. “I was scared,” he admitted.

Cas nodded. “When they said they had an alpha, I was really worried,” he said. “But—” He shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Eli was nice,” Dean said. “We should . . . . you know, have him over.”

Cas gave him a look, as if he didn’t believe what Dean was saying. But then he nodded. “If you want,” he said. “Sometime.” He stretched his arms above his head and yawned suddenly. “I’m exhausted though.”

“Same,” Dean said, although he was still a bit high strung from the visit.

“And we have two bedrooms,” Cas said, beaming at Dean. “Um, I still need to buy you sheets and pillows and stuff.”

“I’ll be find for now,” Dean said. “Besides, moving was so exhausting that I’ll probably pass out right away anyway.”

Cas smelled relieved at that and he turned, walking up the stairs to his own bedroom. Dean took the one downstairs. It was the smaller of the two but that didn’t bother him too much. He didn’t need the same kind of room Cas did. He kicked off his shoes and socks and grabbed a spare blanket and a couple pillows from the couches.

With his makeshift bedding taken care of, Dean made sure most of the lights were off. He kept the soft kitchen lights on, so that if Cas got up at any point in the night, he would be able to see. Dean then crawled into bed, yawning for himself.

Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

He curled up with the blankets and cushions he had grabbed and relaxed into the mattress. He closed his eyes and smiled at the memory of the dinner. Good, and only a little awkward. Like Cas. Dean snorted to himself at the joke, almost laughing out loud.

He sighed.

Like Cas. Good, well-intentioned, in-love Cas.

Dean smiled at the pitch black ceiling, up at the second floor where Cas was falling asleep for himself. Because he figured that he was just as awkward, especially around omegas like Paul and Beth. He didn’t always know how to act and in most situations he was pretty useless.

Dean rolled his eyes and then rolled over, stubbornly making himself think of anything but Cas. If he let his mind get sidetracked like that, he would spend hours staring into the dark.

“Bitch,” he whispered to the dark. Because only a wimpy bitch would be scared of thinking about Cas for hours on end.

Dean was scared. Dean was a bitch.

 


	25. Actually Fine

“Oh, fuck me,” Gabe muttered when he dropped a spoon onto the floor by accident. He bent to retrieve it and straightened, grunting as he pressed a hand against his lower back. “ _Fu-uck_ me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Sam said, only halfheartedly.

Gabe’s heat had faded sometime this morning, meaning his scent was switching from a call to pin and fuck him to a strict deterrent telling Sam’s body to _Leave Him Alone_. His scent wasn’t particularly sour or disgusting. Sam just wasn’t feeling it. He was soft and content and tired from all the fucking they had already done.

Gabe, probably still in a hyper sort of omega mode, had wanted to do something for Sam who was tired from the near-constant fucking of the past few days. He could have cleaned but the betas did that, and he was almost as tired as Sam was. So they had gone to the kitchen and now Gabe was attempting to make Sam something to eat.  

“You don’t even look like you’ll play with yourself,” Gabe said with a roll of his eyes, bringing Sam back to the conversation. “You’re all talk.”

Sam smiled, propping his chin on his hand as he watched Gabe move around the kitchen. He had a couple pans sizzling on the stove and a cutting board full of cubed vegetables. Sam wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to make, but it did smell kind of good. Sam wasn’t in the mood to argue anyway, so he let Gabe win that one.

The kitchen was warm from the stove Gabe had going and from the normal heating vents. Gabe was humming to himself as he worked, and Sam could close his eyes and just fall asleep if he wanted. He had no responsibilities, Gabe didn’t require any attention, and there was no one else in the house.

Sam purred, happy with situation and happy with himself. He slouched forward on the table and closed his eyes, glad that he was able to lose himself in the moment like that.

“Some alpha you are,” Gabe teased, making Sam crack an eye open. “Passed out on my table. Like the laziest creature in the world.”

Sam smirked at him and yawned, stretching his arms across the table. He leaned his head down on his arms, tilting his head so he could still watch Gabe work.

“Some omega you are,” he said. “Being beautiful and making me food so I can sleep.”

Gabe’s cheeks went pink and his scent went embarrassed fast. “Stop it,” he said, turning his back to Sam as he busied himself with salting and peppering a large pot of water. “You’re such a jerk!”

Sam smiled and yawned again. “Cute,” he said, loving that he could make Gabe so flustered with only a couple words. He straightened, leaning back against the counter so that he could watch Gabe work.

“If you’re just going to distract me, you can get out of the kitchen,” Gabe said sternly, but his scent was still that sweet embarrassment, so Sam rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one distracting me,” he said. “With that ass.”

Gabe threw down the dish towel he was using and spun the nobs on the stove so that they were at zero, spinning on his heels. “Oh, that’s it,” he said, crossing the room and three steps and grabbing Sam’s face in his hands.

They were kissing then, Sam still bent part way over the table and Gabe leaning over to reach his lips. It was an awkward position with the edge of the table digging into Sam’s lower back. He didn’t care. He fisted his hands in Gabe’s shirt and pulled him up and off his feet, so that he was sitting in Sam’s lap.

Gabe ground his ass down on Sam’s crotch, and Sam winced, pulling away from the kiss. Both he and Gabe were out of breath.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe teased, grinding his own crotch against Sam’s hip. “Can’t get it up?”

“Fuck you,” Sam said jokingly. He didn’t really care about that at the moment, and Gabe didn’t even smell horny.

It was just a kissing moment, and Sam was satisfied with that. So was Gabe, it seemed, because he grabbed Sam’s face again and started up again, hooking his tongue around Sam’s and playfully twisting his fingers in Sam’s hair. Sam moaned against his mouth and then went silent, closing his eyes to seal himself in the moment.

“You know,” Gabe said as he pulled away for another breath. “We should move this to the bedroom. The table is so—” He traced a finger around Sam’s ear and grinned. “Uncomfortable.”

Sam wanted to pin Gabe down and kiss him until he was squirming and giggling and they were both so breathless that if they continued they would pass out from lack of oxygen.

Instead, Sam let Gabe tug him up off the table and to his feet. He kept trying to kiss Sam as they stumbled to the bedroom which meant that it took them twice as long. Sam kept having to stop and lean down and then he had to make sure he didn’t trip over Gabe or step on his toes. He was laughing and Gabe was laughing and they were kissing.

And they finally made it to the bedroom after too many stolen kisses.

“Wait, wait,” Gabe said, pushing away from Sam and reaching behind his head to grab his shirt collar. He tugged it up and off, getting stuck only briefly, but he made it out without any help from Sam. He tossed his shirt aside and bent to shove off his pants too.

Sam followed suit, not really sure where it was going, just knowing that his mate smelled so much like happiness and giddy excitement that nothing could possibly go wrong. He pulled off his shirt, skipped his pants, and went straight into falling into the bed right behind Gabe.

Gabe’s hands were all over him, touching and pressing and feeling Sam’s skin and bone and muscle. Sam touched him back, running his hands all the way up Gabe’s boney spine and to his equally boney shoulders. He cupped his hands around Gabe’s ribs, feeling each breath expand and contract and every heartbeat.  

It was startling, how delicate and soft Gabe felt beneath his hands. Sam’s hands wrapped almost completely around Gabe’s chest. His bones seemed hollow, like a bird’s, and his heart skitter-beat like a rabbit’s. Sam could break him, if he wanted.

Sam didn’t want to.

With a playful growl, he twisted Gabe down, pinning him to the mattress, knees bracketing his hips. He captured his mouth in his own, leaning over Gabe with his hands still braced on Gabe’s ribs. Gabe giggled, twisting his fingers in Sam’s hair only a bit painfully. They took a moment to just sit like that, kissing like that.  

And then Gabe seemed to grow bored of that and started squirming, tugging at Sam’s hair and pushing against his shoulders.

“Move,” he mumbled around Sam’s lips.

Sam caught his bottom lip between his teeth only briefly and then he leaned down further to latch his teeth onto Gabe’s scent glands. He squeezed gently but enough to be a warning. “No,” he mumbled around his mouthful.

“Little shit,” Gabe said, his scent just as playful as Sam’s was.

He twisted, struggling, and shoved Sam’s shoulders up. Sam let himself be pushed away and then was honestly surprised when Gabe was able to use his weight to flip Sam completely over and get on top. He pinned Sam in the same way Sam pinned him—hands on shoulders and leaning triumphantly over him. The only difference, was that Gabe straddled Sam’s stomach rather than his hips because he was too short.

“Hah!” Gabe said triumphantly, hair falling into his face and as he grinned down at Sam.

“Omega,” Sam growled, letting a sort of possessive reprimanding tone enter his voice. And almost immediately, Gabe’s grip on his shoulders went limp, and his heartbeat kicked up a notch.

“Oh fuck,” he said quietly. And then he was smiling again, a little breathless and uneasy, as if he were still deciding whether Sam was joking or not. “You’re so fucking _sexy_ when you use your alpha voice,” he said.

Sam smirked. “Oh, omega,” he growled again. “Why do you want to be on top?”

Gabe only grinned back. “Why are you on the bottom?” he said, grinding his ass down on Sam’s stomach, rolling his hips like he would if he were riding Sam seriously.

Sam grabbed Gabe under his arms, lifting him up and off his stomach and then tossing him to the side. Gabe bounced harmlessly on the mattress, since the bed was plenty large enough, and Sam didn’t give him a chance to recover.

He pounced on Gabe, able to skim his hands up his sides and then over his ribs, digging his fingers into the sensitive bits right underneath Gabe’s ribs.

Gabe yelped in surprise and then was laughing way too hard to retaliate, squirming and giggling and pushing weakly against Sam.

“Sto-OP!” he said, squeaking when Sam brushing aside his hands as easy as brushing aside a kit. “This is unfair.”

Sam sat down on Gabe’s hips and gathered both of his tiny wrists in one of his big hands. With a grunt of effort, Sam unfolded Gabe completely, pinning his hands above his head and leaning over him. Gabe was gasping for breath, skinny chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

“Omega,” Sam growled triumphantly, watching the realization of fuck-I’m-stuck register in Gabe’s eyes.

“Oh, _alpha_ ,” Gabe moaned, humping his hips up under Sam as much as he could. He threw his head to the side, exposing his scent glands and the mating bite Sam had made oh-so-long ago. “What are you going to do with me?”

“What _am_ I going to do with you?” Sam said. He was able to keep both of Gabe’s hands secured with only one of his, and with his free hand, he traced the line of Gabe’s collarbone. He was liking this game, this cat-and-mouse, this alpha-and-omega.

“I’ve been such a _naughty_ omega,” Gabe went on. He looked up at Sam, playfulness making his eyes twinkle. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I’ll kiss you,” Sam said, leaning down and doing just that. It was a quick kiss, chaste, and he pulled away before Gabe could do anything else. “And I’ll tickle you,” he said, and Gabe squealed when Sam did just that, twisting and writhing underneath him so hard that Sam struggled to keep his grip.

“That’s not sexy!” he protested. “Stop! Tickling isn’t sexy!”

“But you are,” Sam said. He stopped tickling Gabe and kissed him again. This time, it was deep and long and open-mouthed, and it was several moments before Sam pulled away this time. “You’re sexy and tickling you is sexy,” he said.

Gabe pouted beneath him. “It isn’t though,” he said. “Because my laugh isn’t sexy.” He tilted his head to the side again and closed his eyes. “Go back to telling me what you were going to do because I’ve been naughty.”

“I already said—”

“Yeah, but what else?!”

Sam let Gabe’s hands go and took his face in his hands. He kissed him again, so much slower than before and more hard than deep. Sam kissed him like he wanted to melt into Gabe and disappear and no longer have to be himself. Gabe was the one who pulled away this time, gasping for a breath that Sam didn’t want to take. Sam slumped to the side because he was getting tired of holding himself up over Gabe and because they could still kiss on their sides.

“Talk to me,” Gabe said, wrapping his arms around Sam's neck. He didn't pulled him into a kiss or anything, just held him.

“How about,” Sam said, tracing random shapes on Gabe's cheek. “That your laugh is the sexiest thing I've ever heard—”

“No,” Gabe said, combing his fingers through Sam's hair. “Talk _dirty_ to me.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know I'm not gonna do anything,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Gabe said. “But I still wanna hear you.”

“Fine,” Sam said, settling down a bit more on his side of the bed. He dug deep into his imagination, imagined Gabe still in the throes of his heat, imagined what exactly he would do if the chance was his.

“I would fuck you,” he started.

Gabe whined and rolled his eyes. “Bo-ring.”

“Slowly,” Sam said, giving him a stern look. He pulled Gabe into his chest so that his mouth was close to Gabe's ear and his scent glands. He skimmed his lips down Gabe's neck to rest his teeth against Gabe's mating bite as a warning.

“I would fuck you slowly,” he repeated, keeping his voice low and husky and smiling when Gabe shivered. “So slowly that you would be begging for more. But I wouldn't give it to you. You would have to wait for me.”

Gabe's hips moved unconsciously as he humped Sam’s leg, and he tugged unconsciously on Sam’s hair. His eyes drifted half closed.

“I would fuck you slow,” Sam said. “So slow. So slow that you wouldn’t feel any pleasure. It would just be me knotting a hole as convenient as my fist.”

“Fuck,” Gabe breathed out.

“I’d pin you down,” Sam said, trailing his fingers down Gabe’s spine and then grabbing his ass. “And I’d tease you, until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

Gabe giggled and rested his head on Sam’s chest. “I can’t take you seriously,” he said. “I’m just. . . I started thinking about you _actually_ doing it. And I just—” He started laughing even harder.

He pushed away from Sam and rolled over, kneeling at the end of the bed. Sam propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view. Gabe braced his hands on his hips and dropped his voice lower in a clear attempt to imitate Sam.

“I’m _sexy_ ,” he crooned. “And I make you wet between the legs just by _talking_.”

Sam smirked at him. “Did I make you wet?”

“I’m Sam,” Gabe went on, jutting his chin in the air. “I say fuck you.”

Sam was laughing now too, tilting his head back, amused by Gabe’s imitation of him. “Fuck you,” he said just so that he could prove Gabe right.

Gabe collapsed sideways, clutching his stomach as he laughed even harder. He was kicking his legs and all but rolling around on the bed. Sam watched him, unable to see the same humor of the situation but loving the way Gabe smelled so much like happiness.

“You’re unbelievable,” Gabe finally managed to get out around his cackling.

Tired of sitting up, Sam flopped back, stretching his arms over his face so he could close his eyes and experience the moment through scent alone. He was still smiling, still happy, and still oh-so in love with the idiot at the end of the bed.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Gabe asked, still trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

“No,” Sam said, even though Gabe could have scented him for an answer. “Of course not.”

“Good,” Gabe said, climbing but up the bed and flopping down next to Sam. He forced himself into the crook of Sam’s arm and laid his head on Sam’s chest. “Because I love you.”

Sam smiled, uncovering his eyes so he could look down at the omega cradled in his arms. “I love you too,” he said.

Gabe ran his hand over Sam’s stomach, just for the sake of touching him, and sighed. “I’m glad this happened,” he said. “Like, all of this. I know it was an accident. Kind of. But I’m glad it happened. You know?”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “You bit first,” he said.

Gabe looked up at him and grinned mischievously. “You’re lucky I did,” he said. “Or else what would we be doing? We’d be crazy.”

“You _are_ crazy,” Sam said.

Gabe pushed himself up so that he sat over Sam, hands on either side of Sam’s chest. “Even crazier then,” he said. “I would be like a mad scientist!”

“And I would still love you,” Sam said, keeping himself limp because Gabe seemed to like being the one on top. He tipped his head to the side just like Gabe had done before. He bared his scent glands submissively, grinning when Gabe planted a firm kiss on his cheek instead of nipping at his scent glands.

“You are an idiot,” Gabe said, laying back down in Sam’s arms.

“I’m your idiot,” Sam said.

Gabe swatted his arm. “Don’t be such a dork.”

“Don’t be so lovable,” Sam said.

Gabe barked out a laugh and then sighed. “We should just spend the entire day in bed,” he said. “I don’t have to go back to work until the day after tomorrow, and I want to use my days off wisely.”

“This is wisely?” Sam said. He didn’t really understand the idea of getting work days off, but he didn’t mind just lying in bed all day.

“Yes!” Gabe said. “Now shut your mouth so I can enjoy the moment.”

Sam shut his mouth, because he wanted to enjoy the moment too. This was better than he had been in a while, and it was nice. Gabe smelled sweet and happy, and Sam was pretty sure that he smelled the same way. The bedroom was darkened so that he couldn’t tell it was daytime at all. If he wanted, Sam could close his eyes and just doze off right then and there.

Things were fine. Things had gotten fine. Just like Sam knew so long ago, when things had first gone wrong, things always returned to fine. Actually fine and not just Sam telling himself things were fine.

Things were fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo, I have one more chapter to go! I can't believe I actually made it this far ^-^ you guys are all amazing, every single comment and kudos
> 
> in under a year, this story has come such a long way, ^-^


	26. His Version of Licorice

“Dean!” Cas yelled from somewhere in the kitchen. “I need you to get off the phone!”

“But I’m not done talking with Sam!” Dean yelled back, pulling the phone slightly away from his face so he wasn’t shouting directly into Sam’s ear.

“You’ve been talking for two hours!” Cas said, rummaging through the kitchen in search of something that Dean didn’t know. “I need to go to work.”

“Cas has to go to work,” Dean told Sam, bringing the phone back to his ear and double checking to see if he was still there. “So I have to go.”

“I heard,” Sam said. “I have to go too. Gabe is doing something crazy too. I think he wants to redecorate the living room or something.”

Dean almost laughed at that. At this point, he was familiar with the crazy stories Sam would tell him, bizarre stories about the bizarre things that Gabe was doing. One day, it would be Gabe wanting to order out from five different restaurants. The next day, it would be Gabe buying a dozen different things online and then crying when his credit card was decline. Today, apparently, it was Gabe wanting to redecorate.

“Well, you’d better go stop him,” Dean said.

“Omegas are fucking weird,” Sam grumbled under his breath. “Bye, Dean.”

His line clicked and went dead before Dean could respond, but that was okay. He would get the chance to call Sam tomorrow and their conversation could continue then. It was no big deal, so Dean ended the phone call on his end and pushed himself to his feet, wanting to return Cas’s phone before he started worrying too much.

Cas was in the kitchen, juggling three different plastic containers that held lunch and dinner for tomorrow. The fridge was open and leaking cold air out, and Cas’s spicy scent of panic made Dean’s own heart kick up a notch.

“Hey, hey,” he said, rushing forward to grab the containers before Cas could accidentally drop them. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get everything ready for tomorrow,” Cas said, cheeks slightly flushed and his hair mussed from the ordeal. “You know, because Eli is coming and I wanted everything to be perfect.” He shrugged. “Well, not perfect, but you know, _ready_.”

“Everything _will_ be ready,” Dean said, putting all the containers back into the fridge and closing it. “It’ll be fine.”

Cas didn’t smell so sure about that. “I have to work,” he said, grabbing his phone from where Dean had left it. “And I’ll be home late. Eat whatever you want. _Please_ go to bed this time.”

The last time Cas worked at night, Dean had stayed up and waited for him to come home. The clock had read 1:34 A.M. when Cas had come through the door, shoulders slumped and eyes red. He had smelled like stress and tears, and Dean had grabbed him in a hug before he even had the chance to put down all the bags he was carrying.

The following couple minutes had been filled with Cas breaking down into new tears, demanding why Dean was still up, and then fretting over the take-out containers that needed to go into the fridge. Dean hadn’t leave him alone until he had gone to bed, smelling like licorice and exhaustion.

“I’ll go to bed,” Dean said, even though he wasn’t even sure if he was telling the truth. “Just don’t stress yourself out too much, okay?”

“It’s the job,” was all Cas said.

He hurried to the door, grabbing his bag on the way there and pausing to shove on his shoes. It only took him a couple seconds and then he grabbed his ring of keys and his wallet from the small side table next to the door. He paused, staring down at his hands and going through his mental checklist. Then he nodded and looked back at Dean.

“I’m serious about your bedtime,” he said, pointing a finger at him.

Dean rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Sure,” he said.

“I’m serious!” Cas yelled over his shoulder, but he was already out the door. The lock clicked behind him, and Dean was alone in the apartment.

Dean waited a moment, just to see if Cas would come back for something he forgot. But no, he was really, truly alone. He pushed himself to his feet and started towards the laundry room. He should have started a load earlier, but he had been talking with Sam and now he had plenty of free time. A basket was already sitting on the tiled floor, and it took Dean only a couple minutes to measure out detergent and shove the clothes into the machine. He pushed a button to start the correct cycle.

He then wandered back into the kitchen, wanting to get dinner at least planned before he got distracted by anything else. That turned out to be easier than he realized when he found six packages of instant noodles in the cupboard. Dean took one down and set it on the counter. He could boil water whenever he wanted to make it, plus he could eat it in the living room if he wanted.

With dinner situated and the laundry started, there wasn’t much else Dean had to do. He returned to his spot on the couch in the living room and put his feet back up. But it wasn’t as fun without Cas to tell him to put them back down. So Dean put them back down.

He took a moment, in the silence of the apartment, to run his fingers over his neck and his scent glands. He slipped his hand under the collar of his shirt so that he could touch the bare skin, so he could feel what was missing.

Dean leaned back with a sigh, hand still resting on the side of his neck, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t smell himself, never had been able to and never could. Dean was left to wonder, kind of like Cas. And he also wondered about other things.

Like, what it would feel like to feel teeth on his neck? What would it feel like to have someone love you so much that they would bind themselves to you? What would it feel like to be connected to a person like that?

And then Dean changed his mind. Mainly because it was perfectly possible to be connected to a person without any sort of mating bite. And Dean knew it was possible because he and Cas were connected in a way. Not with a mating bite—Dean wasn’t sure if Cas would ever get to that sort of comfort level with him—but still in a way.

It was weird, to think of where he had started and where he was now. From letting omegas fuck his mouth to now living with an omega in relatively normal conditions. Bizarre and strange.

Dean wished he had a phone so he could call Sam.

He debated about going next door to ask Eli for a phone.

That wouldn’t be completely strange. Eli had stayed over at their house a couple times, and they had had Dean and Cas over more times than they could count. They were neighbors to each other, close neighbors almost. If Dean wanted to borrow the phone, they would probably say yes. Maybe. Maybe they wouldn’t, because Cas wasn’t there.

They probably wouldn’t without Cas’s permission. Dean stayed on the couch instead, staring up at the ceiling.

And he didn’t realize he was asleep until someone was shaking his shoulder and he was jerking awake.

His mouth was disgustingly dry, like he had been sucking on cotton for hours, but he also had dried drool on his cheek. He snapped upright, rubbing his chin on the back of his hand and struggling to orientate himself.

Cas was standing there in the dark of the apartment, looking more exhausted than usual and carrying a couple plastic bags under his arms.

“When I said I wanted you asleep,” he mumbled. “I meant in bed.”

“What time is it?” Dean asked, pushing himself to his feet and taking Cas’s bags with a yawn. He still wasn’t completely awake yet.

“Late,” Cas mumbled and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Dean glanced over to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the digital clock on the stove. The lime green numbers read 2:44 A.M. which made Dean wince, knowing that Cas had probably been swamped at the restaurant. Meaning that Cas was exhausted and still woke him up to make sure he got to bed,

“You must be tired,” was all he could think to say, knowing that Cas smelled like exhausted licorice for a reason. That made Dean self-conscious. Sam was the only one who usually cared about him that much.

“I’m fine,” Cas said with a yawned, stumbling towards the kitchen. He put the rest of his bags on the kitchen counter and set his ring of keys down next to it.

“You should go to bed,” Dean said, carrying the bags he had taken to set them next to Cas’s.

“We should _both_ go to bed,” Cas said, kicking off his shoes in the middle of the kitchen. “I _told_ you to go to bed.”

“I _was_ sleeping,” Dean said. He didn’t want to argue with Cas so late at night. Well, so early in the morning. They were both tired and in need of sleep.

“Bed,” Cas said, covering his mouth as he yawned again. His eyes were starting to drift closed, and the licorice scent was starting to fade into pure exhaustion.

“Okay,” Dean said, but he let Cas go up the stairs first, making sure he got to his own bed too.

Cas did indeed collapse on the bed, still in his work clothes, and almost immediately, his breathing slowed down and evened out. But Dean felt guilty leaving him like that.

“Hey,” he said. “You should get into something more comfortable.”

Cas only grunted and rolled over, flinging an arm over his eyes. Dean sighed and moved to help him.

He started with Cas’s vest, undoing the buttons and then sliding it halfway down Cas’s arms. Cas was like a limp rag doll beneath him, so it wasn’t too hard to unthread his arms from the sleeves. He was also wearing jeans, and, telling himself that this meant nothing at all, Dean undid the button and zipper on those as well.

He tossed Cas’s shirt aside and then eased his pants off over his hips. His underwear was pulled down slightly with the motion, and Dean was quick to pull it back up. Cas didn’t even react and his scent didn’t change either. So Dean hurried on.

Cas’s shirt was fine, even if it did smell like grease, so Dean left it. With a wrinkled nose, he peeled off Cas’s disgusting socks and quickly tossed them aside. He was going to leave him like that too, but Cas groaned and seemed to wake up.

“Dean?” he mumbled into his arm.

“Yeah, it’s just me, Cas,” Dean said.

“You should,” Cas said, throwing his arm off of his face and slapping the bed next to him. His eyes were still closed. “Stay. ‘M so tired.”

“I know you’re tired,” Dean said, purposefully ignoring the first half of Cas’s sentence. “That’s why you should go to sleep.”

“Want you,” Cas said, rolling back over so that Dean had enough space to climb in, if he wanted.

“You sure?” Dean asked. He knew Cas was half-asleep at this point, probably didn’t realize what he was saying. Cas probably thought he was someone else or something.

“‘M sure,” Cas said, cracking open his eyes and giving Dean a tired smile. “Yeah, _you_.”

Dean wasn’t exactly dressed in pajamas, but he also wanted about to undress any more that he already was, if he was going to be sleeping next to Cas. Still he bent over and pulled off his socks before climbing into the space that Cas had provided.

It was warmed up slightly, already, but not uncomfortably so. As soon as Dean settled on his side, Cas was scooting over, snuggling down next to him. He didn’t throw his arms around Dean, or tangle their legs together, or even lean his head close to Dean’s. He just lay there, their shoulders and hips and sides pressed together.

Dean wasn’t sure if he should move at all. He didn’t want to grab Cas in any way he didn’t want or instigate anything himself. So he lay there on his back, staring up into the dark at the ceiling. Cas’s breathing had already evened out again, and he smelled like he was already asleep.

It was a heady, sweet mix of licorice and some sort of fruit that Dean was too tired to place. Dean could breathe it easily and could relax easily too.

Without thinking, he shifted so he could sling and arm up and around Cas’s shoulders. Cas sighed in contentment and shifted closer, leaning so that he cheek rested on Dean’s shoulder.

 His scent didn’t change, but he was asleep and that was understandable. Dean couldn’t smell himself, but as he closed his eyes and let himself doze off, he was pretty sure his own scent reflected his feelings too. Maybe not licorice, but his own version of licorice.

His own version of love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! wow, I can't believe I reached the end ^-^ did you know that I have a [Tumblr](https://manuscript-or.tumblr.com/) ? you could suggest a prompt or just talk about the story or help me decide what to write next if you want!


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